Crash
by Europe28
Summary: Alfred was used to Arthur's negative attitude to everything he didn't trust by now, but he wished his brother wouldn't make his distaste so obvious. He was probably just upset because that French boy ran into him earlier. FrUk UsCan full pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's note: This is my first Real Life Hetalia fic, please don't flame._ Full pairings include (In order of dominance): FrUk, UsCan, PruHun, Spamano, GerIta **

"Order for table one Matthew, and you'd better make it quick," Francis only just had time to mention this to his adopted brother as he flew past in the direction of table four.

It was busy today in the New York Café they worked part time in. Getting yourself through college wasn't cheap.

The two only just had time to catch their breath back in the kitchen, before rushing to carry the newly arrived food to the right tables.

Francis was a year older than Matthew, but they both had long blond hair, and similarly coloured blue eyes- Matthew's were just a little closer to a violet colour than Francis'.

They were both sitting literature, and the job they needed to support themselves was not helped by the large amount of workload they were given from week to week.

"Doing anything after, or are you coming back to the apartment after this?" Matthew asked as he shot past with his hands full to the brim with plates of steaming food.

They're parents were often away on business so they'd left Matthew and Francis their City apartment for while they were at college; with the condition they didn't bring girls back.

This was okay for Matthew who never brought anyone back anyway, and Francis argued that bringing boys back with him wasn't the same thing.

"No, I'm meeting up with friends" Francis winked, spinning to avoid one of the other waiters, "Gilbert swears he's having an early mid-life crisis."

Matthew distantly knew Francis friends, and he didn't think much of them; they made too much noise and were far too messy. Francis never tidied up the apartment which only left more for Matthew you do.

"Sorry there!" A waiter exclaimed almost walking into Matthew. Matthew was just one of those people you didn't really notice till you walked into them.

When Matthew had first moved in with them when Francis was seven, Francis had joked for months that he could never find Matthew around the house.

He'd stopped when he'd found out it was because Matthew had been crying in the laundry cupboard. Both Matthew's parents had died in a plane crash; he'd been at home with a child sitter so hadn't been on the flight. But he'd heard that very few people survived the crash.

After that Francis had been a perfect brother, always watching out for Matthew at school, beating up anyone that dared make fun of him.

They'd moved from France to New York when Francis was fifteen and Matthew was fourteen, but Francis had never quite dropped the accent or habit of swearing or exclaiming in French.

Matthew had been from Canada originally so he was already fluent in both English and French.

The clock ticked on to Six o'clock signalling the end of their exhausting shift.

Matthew and Francis parted ways at the door; Matthew to head back to the apartment to finish his college work, and Francis to deal with his friends.

Francis checked his watch waiting for the bus to take him to where Gilbert had told him and Antonio to meet him.

Public transport never arrived on time when you needed it to.

He wasn't quite sure what it was that was upsetting Gilbert so much, but over the phone he'd sounded close to tears.

Gilbert was studying engineering at the college, and Antonio was in the Literature class with Francis. Of course neither of those two took their work very seriously. Gilbert was only there because his parents in Germany had insisted he and his brother do the course, and Antonio just wanted to get through it and move back to Spain.

But Francis didn't really mind New York. He wasn't overly fond of America, but New York wasn't too bad. He liked all the helter-skelter going on around him, and the availability or partners when you felt a little lusty.

The bus arrived.

With a thankful sigh, Francis hopped through the electric sliding door without checking first. He crashed straight into another boy who looked about his age.

Rubbing his head, Francis held out his hand to help the other boy up. If he'd been in slightly less of a rush he might have stopped to flirt with this messy haired blond boy, he was very cute; and Francis didn't recognise him from college.

"Watch where you're going you bastard!" The boy snapped, slapping Francis' hand away and getting up by himself. His accent was so delightfully British that it was no guess where he was from.

"My sincerest apologies" Francis bowed with a scowl, before pushing past the boy.

"Arty you shouldn't be so rude" he heard another boy telling the blond one.

The British complained about everyone going into their country, then began to pop up everywhere else. Stupid hypocrites.

Call him stereotypical, but Francis did find the British irritating.

He paid for his ticket then found a seat next to a nice looking woman who had blushed at him. Francis would make do with either be it male or female, as long as they were good looking and ready to receive his advances.

By the time he reached his stop he'd extracting the woman's address and phone number; considering she was married, Francis saw this as an achievement; he and Matthew were almost complete opposites. Apart from their taste.

The only person apart from himself he'd allow to pick out a wardrobe or meal was Matthew.

Locating the right café Francis pushed through the door spotting Gilbert, and Antonio who'd already arrived.

"So what's wrong?" Francis slipped into the seat opposite the two of them.

Antonio and a comforting arm round Gilbert's shoulders, while Gilbert sobbed into the table. This must be bad Francis had never seen Gilbert like this before.

"You remember that girl he told us about" Antonio spoke for his friend, "well... I was in the music room the other day testing out the guitars, and that Roderich guy he went to school with was in there, and so was _she._"

Gilbert gave a depressed wail.

"I went to find Antonio and saw them!" He threw back his head, throwing his arms in the air, "Apparently she's transferred here to study music with him!"

The girl they were referring to, was a monster of a her kind, that Gilbert and his brother had been to school with (along with the Roderich boy who was sitting music).

Eliza and Gilbert had tormented one another through their school years, and graduated with strong words between them and Gilbert had seen that as the last of it.

Until now.

"I knew she fancied him" Gilbert pouted, "she always did back in school, but I never thought she'd transfer here to be with him."

Francis sighed, ordering three coffees from the waitress.

"Well at least she isn't in your class" he comforted, "and music is nowhere near the engineering class."

Francis didn't see why Gilbert and Eliza would ever need to cross paths; it was a big college.

"You guys don't get it" Gilbert mumbled miserably, "I want to spend time with her..." His voice got quieter as he sank lower into his seat.

Antonio and Francis exchanged glances.

"Are you serious?" Francis asked disbelievingly, "I thought you hated her?"

"I do... I mean... It's really confusing." Gilbert grabbed his coffee from the waitress with a growl.

"Sorry about him" Antonio apologised smiling a winning smile at the woman who blushed.

Antonio was almost as good at this as Francis. The only difference being that Francis knew Antonio wasn't quite as dominating as Francis in relationships. He'd even admitted to having bottomed a few times in sex.

"Well I thought..." Gilbert looked at them hopefully, "you know gay guys are meant to be better at this sort of sensitive advice than straight ones..."

"I'm not gay" Francis denied, "I like both, and I there is nothing sensitive about what I do,"

"I was talking to Antonio" Gilbert dismissed, waving Francis away.

"Me?" Antonio looked embarrassed, "I don't know, I've never tried to date anyone who hates me..."

"Lie" Francis accused, smirking when Antonio scowled at him.

"He doesn't hate me" Antonio insisted, "he just doesn't know how to express his feelings!"

Francis and Gilbert shook their heads, they'd seen the interaction between Antonio and the 'love of his life' Lovino. It didn't look like that boy was struggling with anything.

Antonio only got what he'd been asking for though. He had been trying to date Lovino's younger brother until recently, so it was understandable why Lovino wasn't too keen on Antonio's suddenly redirected advances.

They talked for a bit longer about work and college and a few cute men or women they'd seen around town, before heading for home.

Antonio headed back to the college where he was living, while Gilbert and Francis caught a cab to get them back to their apartments. It was easier sharing; that way they could split the price.

"I don't wanna go home" Gilbert complained, "Lud's going to start making me finish that work we were set."

But when the cab pulled up outside Gilbert's apartment, Ludwig's car wasn't there.

Francis shrugged at his friend before extracting the cash for Gilbert's half of the fare and heading back to his own apartment.

Dropping his keys off by the door Francis could smell something good cooking; Matthew must have started making dinner.

"What you making Matthew?" Francis asked, following his nose into the kitchen where Matthew was stirring something over the stove.

Matthew smiled welcomingly when he saw his brother, "I thought beef bourguignon would be nice" he replied, continuing with his stirring. "Do anything interesting with your friends?"

Francis slumped into a chair by the table, "not really, I did bump into some British prat on the bus though."

Matthew shot him a look, "you know full well him being British doesn't make him a prat" he scolded, lifting the pot from the oven and placing it down carefully on the table before heading over to the cupboards to fetch two bowls.

"Yeah well he accent suggested otherwise" Francis muttered, helping himself to a generous amount of the food, licking his lips.

"Bon Appetit" Matthew cut him off before he could mutter anything else about the British.

The two enjoyed their meal in silence, apart from the occasional mention from Francis that a bit more Bay leaf would have made it a little better.

It was moments like this when Matthew really noticed how empty the apartment seemed. It wasn't like he hadn't had the time to get used to it, but it must have been hard for Francis; their parents (especially because they were his birth parents) had never been around much.

After dinner they watched the television for a bit before trudging off to bed, struggling to keep their eyes open.

Their classes started bright and early. So they set the alarm.

* * *

><p>"You were very rude to that guy Arty," Alfred shook his head, watching Arthur scowl at people walking past.<p>

He'd wanted to make a good impression now he was back in the country of his birth; but doing that with this Brit by his side was going to be difficult.

They were adopted brothers, both of them adopted by their parents.

Alfred was used to Arthur's negative attitude to everything he didn't trust by now, but he wished his brother wouldn't make his distaste so obvious.

He was probably just upset because that French boy ran into him earlier on when they were getting off the bus.

They'd just transferred to New York to study literature.

Alfred knew Arthur had wanted to go to Manchester University, but he didn't want to be separated from his brother.

Although Arthur was slightly older than him, Alfred always found his brother to be much more dependable on him for everything.

Alfred didn't mind because he'd always felt over protective of his brother anyway. They'd been through so much together that it was understandable that they were close.

"Do you want to eat out, or do you want to go back to our college room and eat there?" Alfred asked. Keeping in mind that they only had a few eggs and a carton of milk past its sell by date.

"College room" Arthur sniffed, "we can make scrambled eggs."

Alfred felt his stomach churn a little at the thought, but he supposed he could buy a can of coke from the vending machine and use that to wash it down.

Their new neighbour; a Spaniard by the sound of it actually ran to be sick when Alfred told him what they were having while Arthur fumbled for their new keys.

They'd moved in late yesterday, and began classes tommorow.

The Literature thing had been a compromise. Alfred wanted to go to college in America, Arthur wanted to do literature.

"No alcohol on campus" Alfred smirked, watching Arthur pull a bottle from the fridge. He'd had a feeling the Brit would try to sneak that in.

Arthur flicked a finger up at him, and held the bottle to his lips taking a quick swig before looking around for the eggs and milk.

"Wish I'd given that Frog a whack round the head," Arthur slurred slightly as he spoke- he'd never admit that he was a light weight.

"Then we might never have gotten off that bus, he didn't look like he liked the sound of you either" Alfred toasted, before drinking from his coke.

"This is the thing," Arthur broke the first egg and missed the bowl, "all the French are racist bastards,"

"And the English are all hypocrites" Alfred shrugged, getting up to direct Arthur to the battered looking sofa while he made the scrambled eggs. "You'd better not have a hangover tommorow,"

"I've only had a sip!" Arthur argued, looking longingly back at the fridge where he'd stowed the bottle. Alfred lifted his eyebrows but said nothing.

The scrambled eggs tasted foul, and their taste buds were only just about soothed by the coke and a glass of water (Alfred wasn't letting Arthur anywhere near that bottle in the fridge).


	2. Chapter 2

Francis groaned when he heard his alarm clock going off. Was it really already morning?

He hit the rest button, only to have Matthew come in a few moments later and pull the sheets off him.

Half climbing, half falling out of bed, Francis pulled on a fresh shirt and trousers, to meet Matthew in the kitchen for a quick slice of toast before running to catch the bus for college.

"What are we studying today?" Francis riffled through his bag checking over his books,

"Hamlet" Matthew told him, holding up his own copy.

Francis groaned, "it had to be the one book I don't carry round with me!" He zipped his bag shut again and kicked the seat in front of him that thankfully nobody was sitting on.

"Just share the one with whoever's sitting next to you" Matthew suggested, "it's Monday, you know Professor Keen's never quite awake on a Monday, it'll only be a short class."

Francis nodded, as usual Matthew was right.

As the bus pulled into the college campus, Matthew, Francis, and a few others got to their feet.

Antonio and Gilbert were waiting for Francis by the bus stop; Antonio was in their class, and Gilbert never felt like going to his, so they might as well all walk to class together.

"I've got these new neighbours," Antonio was pulling a face, "they're moving into our class. You'll never believe what they had for dinner last night; scrambled eggs, made with eggs and a gone off pint of milk."

Francis clamped his hands over Matthew's ears looking horrified, but Gilbert just shrugged, "well if that's what they want to eat..."

"_People_ don't eat stuff like that" Francis argued, "and you are never going to get anywhere with that girl if you go in with an attitude like that!"

Gilbert stuck his tongue out.

They were in the Arts corridor now, and they could hear Roderich tapping away at his piano- though Francis told them Roderich was actually quite a good pianist and so not to call it 'tapping'.

Suddenly Gilbert froze, practically diving behind Antonio.

"Did she see me?"

"Who?" Francis looked up at the hallway. There were a few people making their way through the hall, but the only female was a stunningly good looking girl with long wavy brown hair, looking wistfully in through the music classroom door.

"She doesn't look like a dragon" Francis smirked, remembering Gilbert's previous descriptions.

Eliza must have had ears like a beagle hound, because she turned her head very suddenly in their direction.

"Who looks like a dragon!" She demanded, the softness in her eyes next to gone; now Francis and Antonio saw what Gilbert had been talking about.

"Friend of yours I do believe" Francis stepped aside to reveal Gilbert.

Eliza narrowed her eyes, "I didn't even know you managed to get into college" she frowned, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"Well tough luck" Gilbert replied nervously, tilting his head in the direction of the music room, "shouldn't you be in class?"

"Judging by your lack of preparation for a literature class, shouldn't you be somewhere else?" Eliza challenged, not waiting for a reply before spinning on her heel and marching back in the direction of the music room.

For a moment there was silence, then Francis patted his friend on the back, "and you think that'll convince her to go out with you? I hate to see what it's like when you ask her to sleep with you."

Gilbert growled, knocked Francis' hand away and stalked off back in the direction of the engineering block.

The room was already pretty crowded when they arrived, meaning they wouldn't be able to sit together, it didn't really matter because Antonio had already made a beeline for Lovino.

"Lets sit here" Matthew prompted, "then we're only two seats apart."

Francis agreed, slipping into a seat between a girl and a boy who didn't look too familiar. It was odd for their to be an empty seat between two people in a lecture.

Now he was sitting next to the boy something about him did seem vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place him, even after Professor Keen introduced Alfred and his brother Arthur as new students who had transferred from England.

Hang on. England!

Now Francis recognised him, and was only surprised that the boy didn't recognise him as well. The boy sitting on the British boy's other side was the one who had scolded him after Francis had pushed past.

That boy was introducing himself to Matthew as Alfred, so this must be Arthur. Whereas Arthur had sounded painfully British, his brother sounded American.

"Please open to Act 2 of Hamlet" Professor Keen yawned, looking like she'd rather be somewhere else.

Remembering what Matthew had told him he turned to the girl sitting next to him, flashing her a knee wobbling smile.

"Sorry, I don't have my copy of Hamlet, could I share yours?"

The girl blushed then looked apologetic, "sorry I forgot mine as well, I'm already sharing; you could try asking him..." She trailed off, looking like she was rethinking what she'd just suggested.

But there was nothing else for it. Maybe Arthur wouldn't recognise him from the other day.

"Can I share your Hamlet book please?"

The Brit looked up, a perfect picture of shock on his face when he saw Francis, then stamped on Francis' foot.

"Ow!" Francis hissed, glaring at the Brit, "I said I was sorry didn't I?" He tried to read the play over Arthur's shoulder, only to have it blocked from site by the Brit's arm.

"Should have brought your own" he muttered, glaring at Francis with distaste. Then Francis realised Arthur and his brother must be Antonio's new neighbours.

"And you should learn to cook, or do you enjoy eating scrambled eggs made with green milk?"

Arthur's face turned red with anger, "how the hell..."

"Is this guy bothering you Arty?" Alfred suddenly turned round to glare at Francis, looking fierce.

"Alfred this is my brother Francis" Matthew chose the right moment to introduce them, shaking his head at Francis over Alfred's shoulder.

"Oh..." Alfred's demeanour suddenly became a lot more friendly, "yeah, I can see the resemblance..."

"We're adopted brothers" Matthew corrected himself, "but we've been brothers for so long it doesn't feel like that," he gave Francis a small smile.

"Me and Arty are adopted brothers too" Alfred's face lit up, "hey, do you want to go out and eat somewhere during lunch?"

"Yes" Matthew replied at the same time Arthur and Francis said no.

"It'll be fun Arty" Alfred pressed, pulling puppy dog eyes on his brother,

"please Francis..." Matthew whimpered.

They continued until their brothers begrudgingly agreed.

"You four at the back!" Professor Keen suddenly snapped, "If I am going to bother to turn up, the least you can do is pretend to listen to what I have to say!"

Arthur flushed, looking embarrassed, quickly turning to the right page of Hamlet, even lifting his arm so Francis could see.

If Francis hadn't already decided he didn't like this boy, he might have said it was cute.

With a heavy heart Francis turned down the offer of going to eat with Antonio and Gilbert, and hurried after his brother and the other two.

Alfred and Matthew were talking animatedly, while Arthur shuffled behind with his hands in his jacket pockets, looking at the floor.

When it turned out Alfred was taking them to a fast food restaurant Francis promptly refused to eat anything.

Arthur ordered a small chips, and Alfred ordered for him and Matthew.

The Brit looked a little surprised to be landed with what he'd called a 'large chips'.

"Alfred I think there's been a mistake..."

Alfred just laughed, taking one of Arthur's chips, "welcome to America bro."

In the end Francis ended up helping Arthur with his fries; just because it was so painful to watch him trying to eat them all.

"Me and Arty here have been brothers since we were seven" Alfred beamed with a mouthful of burger,

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Arthur snapped, folding his arms and turned away from them all to look outside the window.

"Me and Francis have been brothers that long as well" Matthew smiled, "you two must be close."

Alfred laughed, leaning over to ruffle Arthur's hair. Francis was getting ideas as to why the Brit's head was always so messy.

"If you don't mind my asking..." Matthew began concentrating very hard on his shake, "...Which one of you was adopted?"

Francis saw Arthur shift uncomfortably, even Alfred stopped chewing quite so vigorously.

"Both our parents are dead, we were both adopted."

"I'm sorry..." Matthew apologised, "my parents are dead too."

Francis felt like this conversation was getting a bit depressing now. Besides, both his parents were alive and well; not that he'd know unless they phoned once a month to tell him so before whisking off to another business conference.

Matthew and Alfred then began to discuss why they'd chosen to do this course at this college.

Francis supposed that being adoptive brothers would explain the difference between their accents.

He and Arthur might as well have not of been here; Matthew and Alfred were so interested in each other.

Though Francis supposed that was good; Matthew often found it hard to make friend.

"So how did you know about the scrambled eggs?" Arthur mumbled, so quietly that Francis almost missed it,

"I have a friend that lives next door to you, I assume one of you must have told him" Francis shrugged, watching Arthur shoot an accusing glance at Alfred, who wasn't paying attention to him.

"I suppose you think you could cook better because your French" the Brit muttered, going back to look out of the window.

It was this moment Matthew and Alfred chose to take notice of them again.

"You can come and see for yourself if you'd like" Matthew offered, "its Francis' turn to cook tonight,"

"That'll be great" Alfred agreed enthusiasticly, "me and Arty could come round after classes finish."

Arthur looked like he was about to protest, then stopped; "fine" he glared challengingly at Francis, "let's see just how good your cooking really is."

Folding his arms Francis told himself he was going to make the best dammed dinner this Brit had ever had, just to prove him wrong.

They went back into class for the afternoon lesson, after which Francis insisted on being able to see his friends before heading home to cook for the blasted Brit, and his brother's new friend.

"What's up with you?" Antonio hurried to catch up with Francis when class ended, "I think I'm getting somewhere with Lovino, he only hit me four times today." He tilted his head curiously at Francis, it was unlike the Frenchman to look so angry.

"My brother's only gone and made friends with that new Alfred, who he's invited round for dinner tonight!"

"What's wrong with that?" Antonio felt he was missing something,

"He's bringing his adoptive brother, and guess who he is! That bloody English prick I bumped into on the bus the other day!"

"Oh" Antonio nodded, glancing around for something to distract his friend, "hey look, Gilbert looks excited about something; maybe he spoke to that girl..."

It wasn't that, but his story was even more interesting.

"Remember when I got home last night Ludwig's car wasn't there" Gilbert glanced at Francis, almost jumping up and down on the spot, "do you know where he was?"

"Obviously not" Francis admitted, at the same time Antonio replied,

"Lovino and Feliciano's student room?"

Gilbert looked disappointed, "how did you know?"

"It's the reason I only got hit four times today by Lovino; he had to come and sleep in my room last night..." He noticed the looks Gilbert and Francis were giving him, but he shook his head with disappointment, "I gave him the bed, I slept on the sofa."

Francis was running through recipes in his head, trying to work out what he was going to make; it had to be something big that would put any thought out of that stupid British head that he was only acting like a big chief because he was French.

Francis knew he was a brilliant cook even by French standards. And he was not going to stand for someone denting his pride like that.

"I've got to get going" Francis excused, slapping his friends on the back; he needed to get to the super market.

Of course it cost a fortune to get a chicken round here that wasn't stuffed with chemicals and kept in a box, but Francis knew where he could get a pretty good price on one.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur couldn't concentrate on the films that Matthew and Alfred were looking over. He kept looking over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, trying to ignore the smells that were pouring into the room.

"Hey, there are no lectures tomorrow, maybe we can stay round and watch some of this stuff," Alfred made a dive for Matthew and Francis' DVD cupboard where he'd just spyed a large collection of action movies.

Maybe he shouldn't have insulted the Frog's cooking abilities; he had a feeling he was going to be regretting that when Francis presented them with dinner. The alluring smell coming from the kitchen was making every sense tingle with anticipation.

"Let's just watch television for a bit" Alfred suggested, "we can choose a film between us when Arthur's stopped drooling."

Jolting quickly, Arthur wiped a bit of saliva from his lips, glaring at Alfred.

It looked like a crime drama was on after the news so they settled down to watch that.

"British police dramas are much better" Arthur grumbled, dragging himself away from the kitchen and towards the television.

"And that's the news at seven, we'll be back again at nine" the reporter smiled, sounding the end of the news and bringing on the commercials.

"In Britain we have channels where there aren't any adverts" Arthur crossed his arms, "and the crime dramas aren't so predictable..."

"Arthur shut up" Alfred sighed, turning to face his brother with a glare.

It seemed to work because the Brit shut his mouth, and just squirmed in irritation, before getting to his feet and wondering to the kitchen.

Francis was rushing around all over the place, stirring this, and checking on that; while perfecting something else. It took him a while to notice Arthur was watching him.

"Do you need something?" Francis asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice, wiping the sweat from his brow, and readjusting his apron.

"Can I help?" Arthur looked around at all the preparation, he just couldn't bare that it was taking so long for him to taste.

Francis scoffed at him, "you can get the plates out, but that's all" Francis warned, giving him a careful look. Arthur knew he didn't trust him one bit.

Okay, so Arthur knew he wasn't the best of cooks; but surely he couldn't do any harm simply stirring something. He found his memories drifting back to that time when he and Alfred were eleven and had been cooking a surprise cake for their adoptive parent's anniversary.

Nine Years Ago

"Almost done," Alfred was looking over his oddly coloured masterpiece; his eyes shining with childish delight. Apart from the fact it was blue the cake looked rather nice, and was probably edible.

Arthur stood in the corner pouting; Alfred had hardly let him do anything, apart from fetch ingredients from the cupboards and fridge. What was the point in getting up so early if he wasn't even allowed to contribute anything.

Alfred placed the cake carefully in the oven, grinning widely, sitting back to clap his hands together and say in his funny sounding American accent, "this is gonna be great!" He checked his watch then the clock, "I'm gonna go take a bath now, just call me in thirty minuets; that's how long the cake takes to bake."

With that he left Arthur in the kitchen on his own (_This was the last time anybody ever did that_).

Sighing, Arthur scooted onto one of the chairs to watch the kitchen clock. Muttering to himself how unfair it was that Alfred always did all the best bits himself; he was older than him, shouldn't he be the one that was allowed to call those shots.

Even though Arthur was at least six months older than Alfred, the American boy just looked so much better built next to him, and a lot taller.

Arthur was scrawny and often needed Alfred to beat people up to stop them picking on him. Although Arthur admired and respected his brother, he wanted to do something himself.

Then an idea hit him.

If the cake took thirty minuets to bake at 200 degrees, it would be done in fifteen at 400 degrees.

Hopping off his seat Arthur turned the dial as far as it would go and sat back to watch.

The room was slowly beginning to fill up with smoke, Arthur wondered if this meant the food was ready. He had a faint memory in his head of his real parents cooking in the kitchen and producing the same results, so this must be right.

He was about to open the door when the fire alarm went off.

He heard the rumble of panicked feet racing down the stairs, then felt himself being whisked up from round the waist. They had to wait outside in the early morning cold until the Fireman arrive.

Thankfully it had only been the smoke that had set it off and there hadn't been a fire; but Alfred's surprise cake was ruined.

"My cake!" Alfred sobbed, after explaining the situation to their parents, he burst into tears; which meant of course that Arthur felt guilt and began crying as well.

Present day

Feeling a little annoyed at this, Arthur set about getting out the plates, having to stand on tip toe to reach the top shelf.

Knowing he shouldn't, Francis found himself glancing round to catch sight of the pale skin revealed when the Brit's shirt rose a little above his waist.

He snapped back to what he was doing quickly though when Arthur turned around with the plates bundled in his arms, scowling a little.

Francis smiled, it seemed like his distrust of the English and their cooking abilities was bothering Arthur.

Now Francis could get a proper good look at him, he had to admit Arthur was quite good looking. From what he'd seen Alfred was quite overprotective of his brother, and Francis supposed he needed to be.

Even though he was bad tempered, there was an air of innocence around Arthur that Francis was sure anyone would take advantage of; and he knew what he was talking about- having tried it with several similar people.

But there was something different about Arthur. Maybe it was his determination, or was that just the cute face he was pulling now as he set the plates down on the table.

"voilà" Francis announced proudly, pulling something out of the oven; setting the heating to warm, to keep whatever else it was hot while they were eating the main course. He hadn't bothered with a starter because that would just over complicate things, and Arthur didn't look like he wanted to wait much longer.

Noticing Arthur looking at him curiously, he dismissed him from the room.

"I want to prepare it on my own" he ordered,

"but you've just made it" Arthur argued, "I don't think decoration matters,"

"Out!"

Arthur found himself back in the sitting room with the door slammed behind him.

"Don't worry about it" Matthew smiled, "Francis is really particular; I'm amazed he even let you in there at all; I'm banished from the kitchen usually."

He watched Arthur mumble something about helping to lay out the plates. Despite the fact he was British this boy just screamed Francis' type. Matthew had watched all his brother's partners come and go, all of them seeming to combine into this one boy.

He was cute, challenging, not a push over, and easy to embarrass.

Matthew smiled, he could imagine Francis just kicking himself now.

"Matty, where's your bathroom?" Alfred suddenly asked, jumping to his feet and hopping from foot to foot.

"Just down the hall" Matthew smiled, blushing a little when Alfred wasn't looking. He could now feel Arthur studying him.

Arthur was thinking along similar lines as Matthew had been a moment ago.

He'd be really surprised if Alfred hadn't been checking Matthew out for the hour. Absolutely Alfred's type.

Alfred found the bathroom and relieved himself just in time, pushing open the door again with a satisfied breath.

Now he wasn't in a rush he took time to study his surroundings. One of the doors in the hall was open a little.

Knowing he shouldn't Alfred pushed open the door to reveal the room inside. He could just hear his inner Arthur scolding him now in his head. (Alfred's named conscience)

The room didn't look artistic enough to be Francis'. In fact it looked a little like a child's room. There was a Canadian flag duvet, with a cuddly toy polar bear sitting on the covers.

A hockey stick lay in the corner with a pair of skates by a cluttered desk.

There was a framed picture on the desk that Alfred assumed was of Matthew's parents. Glancing over his shoulder Matthew shifted through the papers.

He just wanted some evidence he wasn't wasting his time with Matthew; he just needed to see some male bondage magazine or something like that; after all his room was full of them, why shouldn't Matthew's be?

Finding nothing on the desk he began riffling through the draws. Checking all the articles he found.

Pulling out a cut-out newspaper article Alfred almost put it back, until he noticed the date. A date he could never forget. He studied it for a moment, reaching for a pen.

He put the article back slowly, closing the desk draw, making sure everything was just as he left it.

When he returned to the sitting room it was just in time for Francis to call them through to dinner.

"Bon Appetit" Francis beamed, watching Arthur carefully, studying his expression.

Matthew laughed, it was hard not to while watching Arthur sniff round his food like it had been poisoned, before forking out a small amount and sniffing that before moving it hesitantly to his mouth.

"Well?" Francis smirked, knowing full well what Arthur thought of it.

Arthur took his time chewing that small piece of chicken, trying not to look like he was enjoying it. He swallowed, already reaching for another forkful. "It's all right" he muttered, refusing to bow to his own pride.

"All right! I've been slaving over this kitchen for hours!" Francis howled, slamming his hands down on the table leaning close to Arthur so as to give him as much discomfort as possible while he was trying to eat.

"Umm... I mean it's good... Great... Very tasty... I... was wrong... okay?" Arthur sank lower into his seat, chewing on the fork uncomfortably.

Satisfied Francis pulled back, sitting down to enjoy his own food.

"Are you okay?" Matthew glanced sideways at Alfred who was looking pale and poking at his food distractedly.

"Huh?" Alfred jumped, pulling a smile for Matthew, "yeah, I'm fine."

Matthew didn't look like he believed him but tried to encourage all four of them into one conversation they could all talk about.

He thought literature would be a good choice since they were all doing literature. That went okay until they reached Romeo and Juliet.

"It was a Romantic Tragedy!" Arthur shouted,

"Just a Tragedy!" Francis yelled back, already on his feet trying to use his height to intimidate the Brit.

"Come on even you're not that thick!" Arthur argued, "The story's all about how Romeo and Juliet fall in love with one another and are kept apart by arguing families!"

Francis shook his head, "no, use your head Arthur; nobody meets somebody at that age on a busy dance floor and decides they want to spend the rest of their life with them. This is keeping in mind that Romeo was head over heals in love with someone else mere hours ago!"

"Then he found the love of his life!" Arthur got to his own feet,

"Yeah, that life they shared together for a week or something ridiculous like that!"

Matthew sighed, it seemed like Arthur and Francis could argue about anything.

Maybe the film thing hadn't been a good idea, besides Alfred looked like something had upset him.

He broke up the arguing by clearing up the plates between the two arguing students. Instinctively Francis sprung to help him.

"Maybe you two should get home" Matthew suggested with a smile, "I'll call you two a taxi,"

"They can stay here" Francis suggested, knowing they had a spare room, plus the sofa- Arthur could sleep on that.

"No, we'll get going" Alfred agreed, taking his dishes to the sink.

When Alfred and Arthur had gone Matthew sighed shaking his head, ignoring the quizzical look that Francis was giving him.

"What was wrong with him?"

"I don't know" Matthew answered truthfully, "he was okay until he went to the bathroom; perhaps he's feeling ill?"

They flicked on the television to catch to last of the news before going to bed.

"_Now we move onto our main story of the night. The midnight flight crash between New York City and London Heathrow in 2000 that left all the passengers dead except for three, has had the Police __investigation reopened."_

Matthew froze, eyes widening, leaning in closer to the screen.

"Wasn't that...?" Francis glanced at his brother, putting an arm round his shoulders, and holding him close.

"Yeah..." Matthew nodded.

"_Police have discovered that there may have been a problem during flight with one of the passengers. They will be questioning the survivors and the victim's close relatives for more information." _

Knowing exactly what was going to happen, Francis pulled Matthew quickly to the bathroom where he vomited into the sink, his face a deathly pale colour.

Francis hugged him close, making small circles with his fingers into his brother's back. He didn't know what to say.

Maybe it was a good thing Alfred and Arthur had left when they did.

"You're parents had nothing to hide" Francis comforted, "the police will come and go."

Matthew just burst into tears, his legs trembling.

Francis helped his brother into his room, and handed him his pyjamas to change into.

"Get some sleep" Francis tried a smile, "I'll phone the college, you don't need to go in tomorrow,"

"thank you" Matthew muttered, clutching his pyjamas close to his chest.

"No problem, bon nuit,"

"bon nuit" Matthew replied, waiting for the door to close before changing into his night clothes. That was when he spotted one of the draws in his desk slightly ajar.

Making his way over to it, he opened it to find the newspaper clipping of the crash on top of everything else.

Had Alfred found this? But what was he doing in Matthew's room.

Lifting the article, Matthew noticed a section an been underlined, and there was a messy note at the bottom, reading: _Sorry, I was looking for porn to see if you were gay and found this instead. Sorry._

Matthew felt his heart give a small flutter, did this mean Alfred was interested in him? But why had he underlined something on this article?

Carrying it with him to bed, flicking on his desk lamp and adjusting his glasses, Matthew skimmed along the plane crash article, till he came to the bit Alfred had underlined.

_The tragic crash cost thirty-four people their lives, with only three survivors; a man in his mid-twenties, and two young boys (not related). Both boy's parents were killed in the crash, and the man is not known to have had any family on the flight; but all three are in shock. _

_Alfred Jones, and Arthur Kirkland are seven years old..._

Matthew closed stopped reading. That was all he needed to read.


	4. Chapter 4

"Can you turn that up please?" Alfred craned forwards in his seat listening carefully to the news.

"They're talking about that plane crash eleven years ago" the cab driver filled in, "they think it was caused deliberately now; they're questioning the survivors and the dead people's families. It seems a bit late to catch anyone now though... Is your brother okay?"

Arthur's mouth was open, and he was now looking even paler than Alfred had been over dinner. He exchanged a look with Alfred, but neither of them said anything.

Sure enough when they got back to the college they had tens of messages on their mobiles.

"What a bloody coincidence!" Alfred swore, looking like he was contemplating phoning someone, but he shook his head and put the phone down; running his hands through his hair instead.

"What coincidence?" Arthur just sat down on the sofa staring straight ahead, his voice distant.

"Matty... His parents were on that flight... That's why I was weird over dinner; I was kind of in his room, and I found the article and a photo of his parents... They looked sort of familiar..."

Arthur was now trembling, crying softly.

"I thought it was all finished with, but now they think someone organised it..." He choked on his words, getting up to bang his fist against the wall.

"SHIT!" He shouted, receiving a bang back from their Spanish neighbour.

Alfred suggested they didn't go into class the next day, but Arthur was determined; he didn't want to miss out on his second day at college. Alfred wasn't going in, he was going to hang around in case the police turned up.

"Morning" the Spaniard nodded when he saw Arthur, "what was all the swearing about last night?"

"None of your business," Arthur turned his head, keeping a stiff upper lip.

Matthew understandably wasn't in classes today either, but somehow Arthur found himself sitting next to Francis.

The Frenchman was good at this moment; he was distracting.

"Matthew's ill" Francis explained,

"Maybe it was something you cooked, Alfred's ill as well," if Francis was being so vague about Matthew it was obvious that he didn't know he and Alfred had also been involved in that crash.

Francis glared at him but didn't say anything.

Everyone was discussing the plane crash whenever Professor Keen nodded off. One girl even had the story that they were almost on that flight, but cancelled a week before to go to Spain instead.

Francis and Arthur both stayed silent throughout this discussion. Francis just nodded when people spoke to him, and Arthur didn't say anything.

After the class Arthur got to his feet, and they gave way beneath him; maybe coming to class hadn't been such a good idea.

He blushed when Francis caught him, helping him to steady; then looking at him with concern and mistrust, "please don't tell me you're pretending to be ill just to prove a point?"

He'd had a feeling the Brit would try to get back at his cooking in some way.

He peered closer at Arthur, were those tears in his eyes?

"Arthur what's wrong?" Francis led him firmly from the classroom, ignoring Antonio and Gilbert- who was waiting outside the room.

He led Arthur to one of the empty corridor that he sometimes used for... 'convenience'.

"Come on, I know you hate me, but tell me what's wrong?" Francis handed Arthur a tissue, watching the Brit wipe his eyes then clench at the tissue in his fist crumpling it into a ball.

"That crash..." Arthur swallowed, he didn't even know why he was telling Francis this. Perhaps because he knew Francis might understand a little.

"What about it?" The Frenchman pressed, putting a reassuring arm around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him into a one armed squeeze.

"Me and Alfred..." He trailed off, shaking his head, he couldn't tell him.

"You were on that flight right?" Francis pulled Arthur into a proper hug, "Alfred highlighted some stuff on one of Matthew's old newspaper clippings; the bit with yours and his name on. I found it this morning when I went in to check on Matthew."

Arthur sniffed, relieving his tears on Francis' shoulder, trying to convince himself he was getting satisfaction in drenching the Frenchman's shoulder.

But at the moment he was just so grateful to Francis for understanding that he couldn't bring himself to put his heart into ruining his shirt.

"Let's get you back to your room, I don't think now is a good day" Francis suggested, personally running one of his finger along Arthur's eyes, clearing the tears away.

"Why you?" Arthur muttered, as Francis helped him up the stairs to the rooms,

"Why me what?"

"Why are you the one here?"

Francis shook his head, unsure how to answer the question especially while Arthur was in this state.

Arthur refused to go to bed when they got in, instead falling down on the sofa with his head in his hands.

"I don't know what the police are expecting to find... I can't remember anything that suggested the crash was deliberate..." He looked like he was racking the most painful part of his memory.

"You don't need to think about it now" Francis soothed, sitting down beside him; looking around with a small frown at the pathetic looking student room; Antonio had never described it as this bad.

The sofa was full of patches, and there were damp marks on the wall.

"You can't stay here" Francis insisted suddenly, "go get Alfred and your stuff,"

"What?" Arthur looked confused, the surprise momentarily making him forget his tears,

"We have a spare room, and I could get a camp bed out for Alfred in Matthew's room, I just can't stand to think of you two here on your own..."

"We only met yesterday" Arthur reminded him, smiling a little,

"Well Matthew and Alfred certainly seem fond of each other" Francis smirked, "maybe that comfort might help them through this,"

"I suppose" Arthur agreed, "I'll go and wake up Alfred, and get packed," Arthur didn't want to admit that there wasn't that much to pack.

Francis came to help him, handing him the few clothes he had in the wardrobe.

"Why is it that you have an apartment?" Arthur asked, taking a shirt from Francis and sticking it unceremoniously into his suitcase.

"Its my parents, they're often away on business so they just left me and Matthew the apartment for while we're in college" Francis explained, Arthur didn't miss the bitter tone in his voice.

"They don't sound like they're around often" Arthur suggested, insisting on pack his own underwear.

Francis just nodded, giving an acknowledging 'hmm'.

He was watching Arthur's body again.

Now he'd had time to examine the Brit's wardrobe it appeared to Francis like he was wearing clothes that were too big for him, and judging by the state of them they were from charity shops or hand me downs from Alfred.

"Come here a moment" Francis motioned, ordering Arthur towards him.

For a moment the Brit looked like he was about to protest, then he stepped unsteadily forwards, flinching and almost jolting when Francis spread his hands around his waist.

"Mon Dieu you're thin!" Francis exclaimed, feeling a sickening shock.

Arthur looked away, "our new parents don't have a lot of money..." Arthur mumbled, "Alfred's younger than me, I like to make sure he was well fed... And he spends a bit more than I do... Meaning their usually isn't a lot left of our student funds, he just looks like he had more weight because he eats at those fast food places a lot... Don't tell him, he doesn't know" Arthur begged, "Because all my clothes are so big it's hard to notice, and I don't want to worry him..."

Francis listened to all this, letting his mouth fall open even wider.

Arthur's health was in such a poor state, and he didn't look like he'd ever owned anything new.

"All the more reason your coming to stay with us; I'm not letting you go until you reach at least a healthy weight."

But what Arthur had said earlier had been right. They had only known each other a day. It was odd, but Francis almost felt like he'd known Arthur and Alfred all his life.

"Are you done?" Alfred appeared in the door, he was looking anxious about Matthew, glancing hopefully at the door.

"We're just coming" Arthur assured his brother, not arguing when Francis picked up his suitcase for him.

"I'm taking you shopping at the weekend" Francis promised, leaning close to whisper in Arthur's ear so Alfred wouldn't hear, "I'm going to get you some clothes that actually fit."

Arthur blushed, "I don't want to put that sort of pressure on you..."

"No problem, me and Matthew get money from our parents, and we work too; it's no problem,"

"It's still not okay" Arthur insisted, hurrying ahead to stop the bus that was about to pull away from the college.

"We should get him new clothes" Alfred mumbled, slowing down to Francis' pace, "I know he doesn't think I know, but I think feeding him up properly might be a good thing."

Francis nodded, Alfred took note of a lot more than Arthur gave him credit for.

They loaded the small suitcases onto the bus and flashed their student passes at the bus driver.

When they arrived back at Francis' apartment Matthew was still asleep.

Francis showed Alfred to Matthew's room, then directed Arthur to the spare room; before heading to the kitchen to put together lunch.

Arthur and Alfred looked a little hesitant at the idea of lunch, showing that they didn't usually bother with it.

Matthew had woken up now, and Alfred ate just to reassure Matthew who had started fussing over him. Not that Alfred was complaining, but Matthew had also lost his parents on that flight; Alfred didn't see himself as any more important.

"Eat" Francis looked sternly across at Arthur sitting opposite him, fiddling with the ham in the middle of the table.

Slowly Arthur began to obey. He didn't eat as much as Francis wanted him to, but it was a start. Arthur and Alfred weren't used to so much rich food; it would take them some getting used to.

Francis got up when there was a knock on the door, insisting the others stayed at the table to finish what they were eating.

"Does Matthew Williams live here?" Francis nodded stiffly, letting the police officer inside,

"To save you time Alfred Jones, and Arthur Kirkland are also staying here" he told the officer coldly, "who do you want to speak to first?"

The Policeman looked a little surprised, but tilted his hat.

"And you are?" He checked, looking at his list,

"Francis Bonnefry" Francis replied, "my parents adopted Matthew after he lost his parents, and Alfred and Matthew are friends of ours."

The policeman nodded, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. "I'll talk to Mr Williams first I think" he nodded.

Sighing, Francis went back to the kitchen to explain what was going on.

When he'd finished, Matthew got to his feet, trembling slightly.

"Matty do you want me to go to?" Alfred asked, also getting to his feet,

"no, I fine" Matthew insisted, knowing that he couldn't stop his brother following him.

"Ah, Mr Williams I suppose" the officer smiled, indicating that Matthew should sit down on his own sofa. "Can you remember anything significant in your parents before the accident? Odd phone calls? Odd behaviour?"

Matthew shook his head quietly, wrapping his arms round his middle, then pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Are you sure?" The Policeman looked harder at Matthew, making him shrink back a little,

"Nothing" Matthew muttered.

Sighing, the Policeman dismissed him.

"Can I see Mr Jones, and Mr Kirkland next?"

Francis insisted on sitting through Arthur and Alfred's interview as well.

"Can you remember anything during the flight that might suggest something was wrong?"

"You mean apart from the announcement 'I'm sorry ladies and gentleman we are about to crash into the Atlantic ocean'?" Alfred growled sarcasticly, "you know me and Arthur only made it because we managed to stay out of the water until the lifeboats arrived... That other guy almost froze."

"Very sad" the Policeman agreed, "but can you remember anything before that?"

The Policeman was looking hard at Arthur who was squirming uncomfortably and hadn't said anything.

"Nothing of any importance" Alfred dismissed, "We were only children at the time,"

"Of course," the Policeman closed his notebook, getting to his feet, "sorry to have disturbed you."

Francis showed him to the door, his mind trailing back to what Alfred had said when the Policeman had looked at Arthur. 'Nothing of any importance'. What did that mean?

Even more so, he knew Matthew pretty well, and was a pretty good judge of when Matthew was lying.

It made him a little nervous to see this amongst the people he was sharing a house with. Matthew was definitely hiding something, and it looked like Alfred and Arthur were too.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur was still protesting when Francis dragged him to the shops.

The college week had passed by, leaving Francis' Saturday free to drag Arthur to the shops with him to replace those hideous clothes.

"At least let me pay for half of it myself" The Brit argued, as Francis half dragged half hurled him into the first shop they came to,

"non, I insist, and that is the last I want to hear of it," he began shuffling through various pieces of clothing, holding them up for inspection.

This was quite a lot of fun actually. Matthew didn't need him to help when shopping for clothes, but he did enjoy picking out what he thought suited others.

"What size are you?" Francis motioned Arthur towards him, checking the sizes on various shirts.

"8 UK size" he admitted,

"That's an American 4 in the women's section," Francis found it a little amusing he'd been given Arthur's female size, but he suppose the male sizes in Britain sort of followed the same pattern, "you're not leaving my home until you're at least a size 6 in the women's section," Francis smirked when Arthur blushed.

The Frenchman routed around for something until he found something one size larger than Arthur was. "There, now I'll know when you've grown a size" he grinned, "go and try it on, I don't want it to look like it's hanging off you too much."

Grumbling to himself Arthur took the clothes from Francis' hand.

He'd picked out a pair of trousers, and a shirt with a waistcoat. They weren't the sort of clothes Arthur had ever worn before. And although he liked the look of them, he was sure they cost a lot of money.

But he did as Francis told him, taking the clothes with him to the changing room.

He pulled of his shirt, dropping his gaze from the all around mirrors; he didn't want to see his scrawny body.

Even though he knew he was thin, Arthur was sure that he was one of those sorts of people that was just meant to look pathetic.

He was also sure that such fancy good looking clothes wouldn't suit him.

Changing quickly Arthur glanced up in the mirror, a little shocked at what he saw.

Although these clothes were a little big for him, they were a lot tighter fitting than his other clothes. Hugging his waist quite nicely.

If he was honest they actually suited him... But he couldn't let the Frog buy them for him, otherwise he'd feel indebted to him in some way... More than he already was.

He'd just tell Francis they were too big or something like that.

"Arthur I want to see" Francis pestered through the curtain,

"they're too big anyway" he called back, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on the waistcoat.

Francis outside the changing room shook his head, he didn't believe that for a moment; he was never wrong about these sorts of things.

"Arthur, either you come out, or I'm coming in," he almost laughed aloud when he got a very flustered incomprehensible reply. But the Brit did shyly slip out for Francis to see.

"Stand still" Francis ordered, walking round him and examining every angle (absolutely every angle). He smiled when he'd finished, checking the fitting with his hands, backing off only when Arthur hit him back. "They're fine stupide."

Arthur shot back into the changing room.

"I'm not letting you pay for these" he snapped, "this stuff is expensive, I saw the price tag!"

"How much do you pay for your clothes?" Francis smirked, "This is $35, it's not that expensive for clothes in New York."

This was met with an uncomfortable silence.

It didn't end until Arthur changed and stepped back out of the changing room, pressing the clothes into Francis' chest.

"How was it?" A woman asked as they left the changing area,

"Wrong"

"Perfect"

They spoke at the same time, glaring at each other. But Francis was the one who had hold of the clothes.

He paid for them despite Arthur's protest, then refused a receipt.

"Stupid Frog" Arthur muttered when they were walking down the street with the bag clutched to his chest.

"It's just one outfit, I won't make a habit of it if it upsets you so much."

"Why the hell are you following me!" A woman walked headlong straight into Arthur; they both went tumbling to the floor.

"That's the second time since I got here!" The Brit had managed to steady himself on his hands so he didn't hit his head.

"I'm really sorry" the woman apologised, now Arthur and Francis looked closer she looked like someone they'd seen around the college. She got to her feet, watching Francis help Arthur to his feet. A smile spread across her face.

"I'm sorry to ask, but you looked like you were running away from someone?" Francis dusted Arthur off, while the Brit tried to push him away.

"Oh..." The girl snapped back to reality, "yeah, some bastard..." She peered even closer at Francis, "you look familiar, have I seen you before?"

"Probably" Francis nodded, "you a student at the college?"

"Eliza I..." Gilbert ran up to them panting hard, the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek, he stopped when he saw Francis and Arthur. "Are you taking them on dates now, usually you don't bother?" Gilbert tilted his head at Arthur, ignoring Francis' warning signs.

The Brit's face turned bright red, looking like he was about to give the light blond haired man a black eye on the clean side of his face.

"Them!" Arthur decided against punching Gilbert, swinging round and hitting Francis instead, "I should have known you were up to something!" He pushed the bag back into Francis' arms, "forget it, I don't feel safe at your house, I'm moving back into the student block!"

Recovering from the punch, Francis tried to make a grab for Arthur's arm, but the Brit was already several meters away.

"Gilbert you idiot!" He shouted, giving him that other black eye that had originally been threatening from Arthur.

Eliza was watching all this with some amusement.

"So that's where I've seen you, you're one of Gilbert's friends aren't you?" She smiled widely at Francis, "I love your hair,"

"Thank you very much" Francis felt pleased someone was complimenting his looks, "yours is nice to, are those curls really natural? I'm Francis by the way."

"Excuse me!" Gilbert interrupted them, crossing his arms.

"Are you still here?" Eliza sounded bored, frowning disapprovingly at him, "I should have you arrested, you've been following me almost all day!"

Francis grinned evilly at his 'said' friend. He was going to get his own back for the mess he'd put him and Arthur in.

"Do you know why he's following you?" He asked Eliza, keeping one eye on Gilbert,

"I have no idea, don't they have any exterminators in this city?" Eliza was regarding Gilbert like he was a particularly filthy looking rat.

"Really?" Francis made his face look surprised, "I thought everybody knew..."

Gilbert lunged at him, throwing him to the floor and into several people at the same time.

"Not the face!" Francis snapped, when Gilbert made to punch him in the mouth; knocking him backwards and pulling himself to his feet. "Nice to meet you properly Eliza" he smiled, "I've got to go sort out this little misunderstanding," he shot the last word as a growl in Gilbert's direction.

When Francis had gone Gilbert spat on the ground, then wished he hadn't. Why was Eliza still here?

"So what was Francis going to say?" She asked curiously, "I don't know many sentences that are worth trying to knock someone's teeth out for."

"Nothing," Gilbert turned away hastily, shocked to find Eliza falling into step next to him.

She didn't press the matter, but continued to walk alongside him, he tried to fight his quickly reddening face away. "So... What are you doing?" He asked, trying to create conversation.

"I'm here for art supplies" she told him, friendly enough,

"I didn't know you did art?" He sounded surprised, when they'd been kids she'd never drawn so much as a still life flower pot.

She grinned sneakily, her face blushing a little.

"I have a particular style I like" she giggled, "by the way..." she sped up a little so she was now walking backwards sizing Gilbert up, "you'd be a seme" she nodded matter of factly.

"A what?" Gilbert didn't know what nonsense she was spouting out, he thought he'd heard that Kiku boy in his class saying something similar once to his brother.

Eliza didn't explain, she just giggled more.

"Let's go get something to eat" she smiled, pulling him towards a café just off the high-street. Feeling unable to protest, Gilbert let her.

When they'd sat down and ordered coffees, Eliza began glancing at him again. "Your hair really is very light blond" she told him, squinting a little, "I never noticed before... It's almost white, and your eyes are almost red... Are you Albino?"

"Of course not!" Gilbert snapped, he was quite touchy about the subject because it was what everybody kept telling him, including his brother and parents. But he didn't have any sort of pale skin problem. That Brit Francis had been with was paler than he was.

Then she took out her sketch pad, lifting up her eyes every now and then to look at him while she traced the pencil along the page.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert asked suspiciously, something about Eliza told him he shouldn't be letting her draw his picture.

"Relax" she told him, "I usually don't do single portraits, but I'll make an exception."

She continued to scribble and sketch until their coffees arrived, then she showed him her work. She'd drawn him in a style she told him was called anime.

Gilbert actually quite liked the look, it made him look scarier.

She began showing him pictures she'd done of other students, including Roderich in the same style.

"I still think I look the most awesome" he sniffed when he came across Roderich's picture. To his surprise he heard her laughing, when he looked over the sketch book she was trying to cover it with her mouth, but it was still obvious.

"I'm not laughing" she warned him, just in case he was about to mention it.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, don't listen to that prick" Francis finally managed to catch up with the Brit, taking hold of his arm to stop him marching away. He was a little amazed to find he could fit his grasp all the way around Arthur's thin wrist, but it didn't stop him talking. "Look, I take Matthew shopping all the time and I can assure you I have never had any interest sleeping with him; I go shopping with Gilbert and Antonio too, and I only slept with Antonio once, and that was ages ago as a dare."<p>

Arthur stopped trying to struggle out of his grip.

"So you don't want to sleep with me?"

"Don't flatter yourself" Francis smiled, feeling a clench in his chest, because truthfully if he had the chance he probably would sleep with him.

"Promise?" Arthur pressed, holding his hand back out for the bag,

"Promise" Francis told him, handing it over, "now lets go home."

Francis felt awful the whole bus journey back, now he'd said that there was no way he'd even be able to make a move on Arthur without him going physco. He'd just blown any chance he had; though he had to suppose, there were more people out there; it wasn't like Arthur was any more special than them.

Matthew and Alfred had gone out to the cinema so the two had the house to themselves till their brothers got back.

Francis smiled as he put the kettle on, listening to Arthur muttering to himself as he took today's purchase into his room. It was good to see Matthew, Arthur, and Alfred back to the normal selves. He hoped the police had gathered all they could on the last visit, and that would be the end of it.

But remembering how evasive that Alfred and Matthew had been it was probably too much to hope for.

Arthur genuinely didn't look like he remembered a thing, apart from how distressing the whole thing had been; so maybe they'd leave him alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's note: **Because it's France's birthday today, I'm going to update two chapters~**_ _Rather mature chapter with mentions of a Pedophile nature (No Sex)_**

"So what did you think of the film?" Alfred beamed, slinging his arm over Matthew's shoulders, "don't you think it was brilliant when that bloke fired that one shot and everything just exploded?"

Matthew laughed, leaning into Alfred chest.

He felt ridiculous doing this; he wasn't Francis, and no where near as bigger flirt as most guys, but he just wanted to encourage Alfred, whether he thought it was sensible or not.

"I actually liked the bit at the end, when everything turned out well" he smiled, slipping out of Alfred's arm playfully, skipping ahead.

"He turned out to be the hero in the end" Alfred grinned, rushing after him and catching the smaller male by the waist, turning him so they were facing one another, still laughing.

They waited in that position until all the laughter had gone out of them.

It was only then Matthew began to process how close they were, and feel his body almost bending into Alfred's perfectly.

"I'll be your hero Matty" Alfred whispered, tightening his arms on the other's waist.

Matthew laughed nervously, "you do know that's really cheesy right?"

"Yeah..." Alfred's words came more as a breath as they bent their mouths together meeting in a kiss.

It wasn't deep or passionate, but Matthew didn't want to pull away. His stomach was doing back flips as Alfred's hands ran through his hair, messing up all the detail that he'd combed this morning.

They had to brake the kiss for air, but they didn't let go of each other.

"Francis thinks this sort of stuff's impossible" Matthew smiled smiled, referring to Francis' reference earlier in the week to Romeo and Juliet, "you know, after only knowing someone a short while... But... I really like you Alfred,"

"me too."

To Matthew this was like a dream come true. All those stories Francis and his parents had read him when he was a child, he finally understood what it was like.

"We'd better get back or Arthur and Francis might start worrying," Alfred kissed him again a little deeper this time, "I wonder how they're going to take this..."

~/~

"Matthieu, Alfred cela est merveilleux!" Francis exclaimed, hugging his brother to him with joy,

"Have you gone mad!" Arthur stared at them, open mouthed, "you haven't even known each other a week! Alfred you'd better not be playing him!" (So much for his earlier argument).

Alfred looked like he wanted to hit his brother.

"You're so heartless Arty!" Alfred snapped, "no wonder nobody ever asks you out!"

Francis and Matthew could see by Arthur's expression that Alfred had hit a sensitive topic.

"Just because I don't go throwing myself about like you do!" Arthur folded his arms protectively, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

"Matty don't listen to him" Alfred sighed, touching his and Matthew's lips together gently, "yes, I've had other boyfriends, but I really like Matty and I'd like to try and make it work!"

Francis stepped forwards to calm the Brit down, touching his shoulder gently, "Arthur..."

"Don't touch me!" Arthur shot away from him, "you're all mad!"

"Come on Matty" Alfred began leading Matthew towards their new shared room,

"They are not sleeping together till they've been dating at least a month!" Arthur recovered, shouting after them, "If I hear any noise I'll.. I'll..."

"Oh shut up!" Alfred yelled, nuzzling Matthew's hair. Of course he wasn't going to sleep with Matthew until the smaller male trusted him enough not to be capable of what Arthur was suggesting now- very loudly from the kitchen.

"What is the matter with you!" Francis demanded, not daring to touch the Brit again.

Arthur had his arms still wrapped tightly round himself, but he was easing out his breathing, looking almost surprised by his own behaviour.

"I...I just don't want to see Alfred hurt him, or Matthew hurt Alfred... It's dangerous, you know... when you like someone... You can't just come at them..." The Brit shivered, allowing Francis to pat his head.

"I'll make you some hot chocolate if you want" Francis offered. Arthur did look rather shaken and confused by something, but the Brit was nodding to his offer.

Arthur sat down at the table while Francis prepared a drink for them both.

"You know, you're a rather confusing young man Arthur" Francis told him while he waited for the hot chocolate to warm up in the microwave.

"Only to simple people" Arthur muttered,

"Well in that case, we're all real idiots aren't we," the Frenchman smirked, taking the hot mugs from the microwave and placing one down in front of Arthur.

The clock was just ticking up to ten o'clock.

The Brit said nothing to this last remark, but he was smiling again.

"I don't think you need to worry about Matthew and Alfred" Francis assured him, "Matthew's almost as cautious as you, he won't sleep with Alfred unless he's absolutely sure he trusts him. I think your brother already knows this."

Arthur just nodded, sipping his hot chocolate slowly.

"I'm going to bed" Francis sighed. He didn't usually go to bed so early but being alone with Arthur was making him uncomfortable.

The Brit got to his feet and followed Francis out, before parting in the direction of his own room.

* * *

><p>"Well that could have gone better" Alfred smiled, settling in the camp bed, smiling up at Matthew who was grinning from his own bed. "Well rest assure Matty, I won't sleep with you until you ask me sober" Alfred pledged, laughing when Matthew started spluttering. "Shh, we'd better be quiet or his royal highness will think we're up to something" the born American grinned, making Matthew laugh more.<p>

"Goodnight Alfred"

"Goodnight Matty."

They were all woken up by the door bell the next morning.

After all they were students, so nine was very very early.

"Can I help you?" Francis yawned, he'd just pulled on a pair of boxers and a dressing gown to open the door, trying to focus on who dared disturb their sleep.

"May I speak to the other three again? Sorry to disturb you so early."

It was that bloody policeman back again.

Looking over his shoulder Francis spotted Alfred who was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else, apart from a pair of very askew glasses.

"Can you talk to him first?" Francis indicated over his shoulder at the irritated looking Alfred.

"I'd like to speak to all of them at the same time," the policeman shook his head.

Groaning Francis indicated Alfred should go wake the others up.

Matthew emerged first dressed in his pyjama trousers clutching his stuffed bear to his chest, fumbling to balance his glasses on his nose.

"Piss off!" There was a thump and Alfred was thrown from Arthur's room. Though the Brit did emerge five minuets later.

Francis fought to stop himself laughing. Arthur was wearing a full set of light green pyjamas decorated with little faeries.

Matthew blinked his sleepy eyes at Arthur, coughed; then glared at his brother.

"What's wrong so early in the morning!" He demanded, shooting daggers at the policeman, "unless somebody has died I suggest you f-..."

Alfred cut him off, "is this really important?"

"I have the other victim from the crash in the station, we thought getting you two..." he indicated Arthur and Alfred, "...We could get some memories back between you, and while we're there we just want a statement from the other young man."

"No," Alfred's tone was very matter of fact.

"No?" The policeman looked confused, "look we're trying to solve this mystery..."

"No," Alfred sounded angrier.

Arthur looked a little vague for a moment, then shrugged, "we might as well go Alfred if they're pressing it as hard to come and disturb us practically in the middle of the night."

Alfred looked like he was trying to get a message across to Arthur without saying anything.

"We'll be there in two hours" Arthur waved over Francis' head at the policeman, "now go away and let us wake up."

When the door had been shut Alfred almost threw himself at Arthur. "You really don't want to do this" he begged, pleading with his brother for all he was worth,

"Why not?" Arthur shrugged, "I can't remember anything anyway, so I can just sit there; I don't need to say anything."

"Doesn't remember?" Francis questioned curiously, combing his hands distractedly through Matthew's hair; trying to comb it flat.

"I hit my head or something on the way down, so the whole flight's a little bit of a blur. I knocked myself out and when I came to, me and Alfred were in the rescue boats."

"Which is why there's no point in you going, me and Matty will go by ourselves" Alfred insisted.

Francis didn't know why but it seemed like Alfred was almost determined not to let Arthur go to this meeting thing. Again it seemed like he was missing something.

"Fine" Arthur threw up his arms in defeat, "I suppose you're right," he began heading back to his room to get changed.

"Hey Arthur" Francis called after him, unable to resist any more, "very nice pyjamas, always very stylish amongst eighteen year olds."

He watched the Brit blush furiously, "Shut up you dammed Frog!" With that he marched back to his room as quickly as possible.

After he was gone, Matthew went to get changed as well.

When they were alone Alfred turned to Francis, still looking desperate, "don't let him out of your sight until I get back" he begged, looking over his shoulder to make sure the other two weren't listening.

"Not unless you tell me why," Francis was getting sick of not knowing anything.

Alfred looked like he was hesitating. He looked over his shoulder once more.

"That man is a sick bastard Francis" Alfred growled in a low whisper, "all I can say is thank God Arthur was too young and innocent to understand what that fucked up bloke tried to do to him, and also praise whoever's up there that he can't remember it. I don't want that guy to lay one look on him."

"What are you talking about?" Francis wasn't quite sure he was following this.

Alfred rolled his eyes, checking they were alone again before explaining. "When we were on that flight me and Arthur made friends; you know, just as someone to sit next to on the long plane journey; he was going on holiday and I was going home." Alfred shook his head,

"And?" Francis pressed,

"I don't know, he went to the bathroom at some point, and came back trembling all over saying that man had come in while he was taking a piss touched him and stuck two finger up him!" Alfred fought to control the volume of his voice. "Of course he was too sweet and ignorant to know what that guy had been planning. He just said calm as you like 'I don't think my mother would want you to be doing that', and left the bathroom!" Alfred gave a crazed laugh.

Francis felt his mouth drop open, "are you serious!"

"Shhh!" Alfred hissed, "the point is he doesn't remember and I don't want him to. You saw how jumpy he got yesterday. All through our childhood he was like that when people he didn't know touched him, or even touched me. Even if he can't remember it, that bastard scarred him! I don't want anything to trigger any more of that memory!"

"What are you two talking about?" Arthur called from the doorway, now dressed in the clothes Francis had bought him.

"Nothing important" Alfred shrugged, jumping to his feet to look Arthur up and down, "that's new, is that what you got yesterday? It suits you," he ruffled Arthur's hair before moving past him in the direction of his and Matthew's room to get changed.

Arthur yawned, fixing a glare on Francis. "There's nothing wrong with my pyjamas" he muttered, waiting for Francis to joke something back, or try and wined him up.

There was nothing.

"You're not ill are you?" Arthur laughed.

Francis did feel a little sick after what he'd just heard; no wonder Alfred didn't want Arthur to meet up with this guy.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Note: Lots of UsCan in this chapter, and another Pedophile warning (same guy, and again there's no sex.) Even I can't write that stuff -shivers-. Note to small children of the world, if someone asks you to get into a car to see their dog's new puppies; don't get in._**

"So we did what I like doing, what do you like doing?" Francis was only too aware of the time. Matthew had phoned work to say he wouldn't be in today, but they hadn't let Francis have time off as well.

Arthur shrugged, "usually I'm happy to go where Alfred chooses" he admitted, watching Francis' eyes dance back and forth between the clock.

"Look, if you need to get to work, I'll be fine here" Arthur assured him, "I'm not a baby,"

"Why don't you come too?" Francis couldn't forget his promise that he'd made to Alfred to keep an eye on Arthur. He was just hoping the meeting wouldn't take to long, so Alfred could get back and take over watching Arthur.

Arthur raised a rather thick eyebrow, "I'm not watching you work for four hours, it'll be boring,"

"I'll tell you what," Francis was desperate, "If you come to work with me we can go out to a pub or something afterwards."

Arthur's eyes lit up at the word 'pub', and Francis found himself almost being pushed down the street to the bus station.

"So, when do you finish?" Arthur clapped his hands together cheerfully.

* * *

><p>"Where's Mr Kirkland?" The policeman asked at the door, looking over the other two's shoulders.<p>

Alfred took the policeman aside, shooting a small smile at Matthew.

"Maybe I should explain officer; you see when that accident happened Arthur hit his head on the seat in front and lost pretty much all his memory of the flight, I'm sure it will say in your records that he was unconscious when found."

The policeman nodded, "okay then; if you come this way, and Mr Williams follow me."

Alfred found himself in one of those irritatingly clinical interview rooms sitting opposite a man he couldn't forget.

Eleven Years ago

Alfred scrambled at the back of the plane, trying to keep him and Arthur's limp unconscious form out of the water; he knew if you got in that water for too long you'd freeze, and they needed as much time as possible.

In his hand was a black revolver that he'd picked up from someone's handbag (how it had got through security he did not know; in fact it should have been impossible). But he was now holding his gun arm steady, pointing it at the man lower down the plane struggling on top of one of the seats to keep his feat above the rising sea.

"I'm going to freeze you little brat!" The man snapped, looking between the water and the gun; wondering which one he'd rather risk.

"You stay right there or I'll shoot you through the head" Alfred growled; never so sure about anything in his life until now.

He wasn't going to let this man anywhere near him or Arthur even if he had to shoot him.

That look of distaste was fixed on him for the next two hours. A face he would always have embedded into his memory.

Present day

"How are you?" The man smiled, hiding a look of hatred behind his cheery greeting.

"Fine" Alfred replied coolly.

For a moment they just looked at each other.

"I thought there was another little boy, or did he die, I'm sure I read that he survived?" The man playfully looked under the table, snapping back up again when Alfred swung his foot to kick him.

"He doesn't remember anything, he didn't need to be here" Alfred growled.

The man was now in his early thirties; though he was still quite good looking, with a mess of black hair over his narrowed eyes.

"So what's your name then?" Alfred muttered, trying to fill the time with what the police might consider a constructive conversation.

"Ryan" the man told him, "and what about yours?" It was clear from his expression he knew what Alfred was doing.

"Alfred."

Another cold silence filled the room.

"So you say that boy can't remember anything?" Ryan asked curiously, "I can remember it all very vividly; it would be nice to see him again,"

"well that won't be necessary," Alfred let a warning growl escape with his reply, "I'm sure we can't remember anything necessary to the case."

Ryan paused for a moment, then shook his head, "my mind is a blank; everything seemed fine one minuet then we were going down the next. So how old are you and the other boy now?" He changed the subject abruptly, "you were both very small when I last saw you."

"Eighteen" Alfred gritted his teeth, he was having to control every muscle in his body to stop himself hitting this bastard.

"So what's his name?"

"None of your business," Alfred got up, "I think that's all we can do today, we're done," he called to the mirror where no doubt they were being watched.

An officer came and opened the door for them.

Alfred smiled when he saw Matthew waiting for him in the waiting room.

"How was the statement?" Alfred asked, putting an arm round Matthew's shoulders,

"Well I told them all I know about the crash" Matthew told him, smiling cheerfully, "how was your meeting...?" Matthew broke off, his face turning white.

"What's wrong?" Alfred looked over his shoulder at what Matthew was looking at.

"Ah, Matthew; I used to work for your parents didn't I? Very sad, I'm sorry they had to die like that; lost me a job, I didn't know you two knew each other. It is a small world isn't it." Ryan gave Alfred and Matthew a small wave.

This guy knew Matthew?

Alfred felt even more hatred bubbling up inside him.

"If you come anywhere near me or anyone I know I will see to it that your body is found in a ditch!" Alfred hissed, low enough so the police couldn't hear.

Ryan just smiled.

Alfred dragged Matthew from the station as fast as he could.

"I saw your face, what did he do to you!" Alfred demanded, walking quickly towards the bus station with Matthew's arm tightly in his grip.

"He... Alfred you're hurting..." Matthew whimpered,

Alfred slackened his grip, lowering his hand so he was now holding Matthew's. "Please tell me Matty, there's a reason why I didn't let Arthur come; please tell me I'm wrong when I ask you if that guy tried the same thing on you as he did on Arty?"

Matthew stayed quiet, chewing his lower lip nervously.

"Oh God!" Alfred groaned, "what did he do to you?"

"C-Can I tell you when we get home..." Matthew whispered, "people are looking at us..."

Calming himself down, Alfred nodded.

When they got back to the flat he found that Arthur and Francis were out. The Frenchman must have struggled to get time of work and taken Arthur with him.

"So?" Alfred sat down on one of the sofas looking expectantly at Matthew.

Shifting uncomfortably, Matthew came to sit beside him, "It wasn't just the once he tried something" the boy admitted, "he was always in my parents house; he used to slap me from behind every now and then, but I always thought it was a joke... Then he started doing things like touching my face when my parents weren't looking," he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the horrid images from his memory. "Don't tell anyone this Alfred, please" he begged.

Alfred hesitated, but then he agreed.

"He told me at one of my parent's work parties that he had a dog that had just had puppies and whether I wanted to see them... Of course I was only a silly little kid so I went... I got into his car and he drove me to his house... I asked him where the puppies were..." Matthew was broken off my a small sob.

Alfred pulled Matthew to him, kissing his tears away. "How old were you?"

"Six" Matthew murmured, "He didn't actually manage to do anything..."

Twelve years ago

"Where are the puppies?" Matthew looked up innocently, blinking his large eyes around the room. He loved little animals, but his dad was allergic to fur so he had to make do with his stuffed toy bear.

"They get scared easily" Ryan told him, helping Matthew take his coat off, "you can't be wearing anything too dark."

Matthew looked down at his black child suit that his parents made him wear at their parties. He wasn't exactly disappointed to be given a chance to take it off.

But he was still standing in his pants and shirt.

"The puppies are through here," Matthew followed Ryan up the stairs towards one of the rooms. It looked like a bedroom. He'd once read a story where a dog gave birth to her puppies under the bed.

With childish pleasure he ran towards the bed to look underneath. But there were no dogs of any age.

"There's no puppies here sir" he reported, a feeling of puzzlement coming over him, turning round to find Ryan standing just behind him.

Ryan lifted him under the arms and seated him on the bed.

Matthew began to feel nervous, wondering if maybe he should have told his parents he was going to look at Ryan's puppies.

"Now Matthew you're a big boy aren't you?" Ryan bent down so they were level,

"I think so" Matthew nodded, wondering where all this was leading.

"I need you to do me a favour" he smiled, running a finger along Matthew's cheek, "can you take your shirt off for me?"

"Why?" Matthew felt very confused now,

"You don't want to get into trouble do you, just do as the adult tells you."

Hesitantly Matthew unbuttoned his shirt and took it off.

Off course he'd been naked in front of adults before, but his parents only had him like that when they were changing his clothes or ironing something quickly. Their eyes didn't linger like Ryan's were now doing.

"Now lie down" Ryan told him, sitting himself down on the bed.

Again Matthew did as he was told.

"Now you know what you have down there?" Ryan's grin was growing wider,

Matthew nodded,

"Touch it."

That was when the door was thrown open.

Matthew's father flew into the room and bundled his son into his arms, eyes narrowed at Ryan. "You can consider yourself fired at the very least!" His father shouted, hiding Matthew inside his coat.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" Ryan smirked, "I have certain files about this company that I'm sure the authorities will find interesting..."

Matthew wasn't sure what was going on, so he went back to square one, "where are the puppies?"

This only seemed to make his father more angry, "you're a sick bastard!"

"Careful" Ryan warned, "Just remember if I tell the police what I know about this company, you and your wife may end up behind bars; then who will take care of little Matthew?"

At this Matthew began crying, clinging to his father's arm, "I don't want mummy and daddy to go to jail" he sobbed, "I want to go home."

Throwing one last look at Ryan, Matthew's father turned away with Matthew in his arms back downstairs and to his car.

"What did Ryan tell you to do Matthew?" His father asked kindly when they were sitting in the car. He'd let Matthew wear his big expensive coat for the car journey home; something Matthew was only ever allowed to do as a treat.

"He just said my clothes would scare the puppies; then that I'd get into trouble if I didn't do what he said..."

"Did he touch you at all Matthew?" His father pressed, and Matthew felt the moving car wobble a bit.

"He touched my cheek I think, but that was it..." Everything was settling now on what had just happened, but it took Matthew till he was home for the full thing to hit him.

Of course he was too young to know what sex was, but he felt frightened by what he'd let Ryan see and make him do.

His parents whisked him to bed with a mug of warm coco, and read him a story till they thought he was asleep.

But as he eventually dozed off, he could hear their panicked discussion downstairs.

Present Day

Alfred felt like he couldn't hug Matthew hard enough, or kiss enough of the pain away. He now wanted to kill Ryan more than anything. He made a mental note to get hold of a gun fast in case Ryan ever came a knocking.

But guns were expensive...

Instead he just held Matthew to his chest and let the smaller boy cry against him.

"You're safe now Matthew, and I'll never let that change" Alfred promised, feeling his own tears beginning to fall. He kissed the top of Matthew's head, "you're safe Matty" he repeated, trying to will it into reality.


	8. Chapter 8

Francis finished his shift. He'd made sure to keep an eye on Arthur the entire time. The Brit had been sitting patiently at one of the tables for the last four hours, reading a book that someone had left when they arrived.

"Ready to go?" Francis had changed out of his uniform and back into his normal clothes, and was now helping Arthur into his jacket.

"Yep, I haven't been to a pub since moving here" Arthur bounded, he sounded very excited.

Francis also remembered what Alfred had told him when he and Arthur first moved in. _"Arthur's a real light-weight so be careful with him when he's around alcohol"_.

But it was all he'd been able to say to make Arthur watch him work for four hours. And he'd only let him drink a little, then get him back safe and sound with a hangover tommorow.

They stopped at the first pub they came to.

Francis ordered them both a pint, then found very quickly he was ordering Arthur another.

Alfred had not been wrong.

Arthur was already slumping in his seat, looking a little dizzy, and muttering under his breath to invisible creatures that only he could see.

"Are you sure you haven't had enough?" Francis pressed five pints later,

"Bloody Frog, can't you handle your drink?" Arthur slurred, lifting a wavering finger into the air and pointing it in Francis' rough direction.

"No I can't" Francis shrugged, deciding now was not the time to argue, "let's get back before Alfred kills me for taking you drinking." He helped Arthur to his feet, then had to steady him to walk.

Thankfully the Brit wasn't protesting too much.

It was coming up to nine Francis saw when he checked his watch. Buses wouldn't be running for much longer.

He managed to catch one just as it was about to pull away from the stop. The driver looked a little irritated to see Arthur in such a state but let them on anyway.

"I can't stand the French" Arthur murmured drunkenly, leaning on Francis' shoulder on the bus, "you're all so dammed proud of yourselves..." He hiccuped.

Francis ignored him, really regretting his offer that he'd made earlier to take Arthur drinking.

"I hate you most of all" the Brit grumbled as they got off the bus, "do you know why?"

"Why?" Francis sighed, he wasn't really paying much attention to what Arthur was saying now. It was quite clear he was beyond normal conversation.

"Because I like you too much."

Francis felt his heard stop for a moment. Arthur was humming to himself muttering something to whatever it was he thought was sitting on his shoulder.

What had he meant by that?

He unlocked his front door, amazed to find Alfred and Matthew in bed; it must have been a long day for them.

"So what did you mean by I like you too much?" Francis knew he really shouldn't be pressing this, but he couldn't stop himself.

Arthur blinked at him, trying to remember what he'd just said, he then hiccuped and brought one hand to Francis' face, "I don't know" he muttered, sounding annoyed, "you're just too confusing to work out."

"Let's get you to bed," Francis found common sense finally kicking in, only to lose it again momentarily when Arthur let his body collapse against his, murmuring tiredly.

"It's too hot here" Arthur muttered, his mouth damp where it was pressed against Francis' shirt.

The Frenchman felt a shiver run down his spine, but he made himself scoop Arthur up from under his feet, carry him to his own bedroom and dump him on the bed where Arthur fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning Arthur was the first one to be awoken by a knocking at the door.

His head felt like shit, and he had a horrible feeling his was meant to be in college later today. He couldn't really remember very much but he must have gotten really pissed.

"What is it now?" He grumbled, not realising he was still fully dressed and probably stank of alcohol.

"Ah the life of a student, I just came by to see how you were all doing?" A man pushed past him into the house leaving Arthur a little confused to who had just come in. He was still standing by the door contemplating this when the man closed it for him.

"Who are you?" Arthur blinked at him, something about the man's face did seem familiar but he was having trouble placing it.

"So Alfred wasn't lying when he said you lost your memory" the man smiled, studying Arthur's face.

Arthur felt himself sharpen at this. This must be the man Alfred had gone to see yesterday; but why was he here? He was sure by the sound of Alfred yesterday that this wasn't the sort of person he liked.

"You haven't half grown" the man held out his hand, "I'm Ryan,"

"Arthur" Arthur replied, though he didn't take the hand; he was still ticking over in his head where he knew this man from.

"You know I remember you from the flight" Ryan told him,

"Sorry, like you said I can't really remember" Arthur shrugged, "do you want to talk to Alfred, I can go and wake him up,"

"No, it's fine..."

Arthur took a step backwards; was it just him or was this guy getting closer.

"Did you want something then?" Arthur was at a loss as to why this guy had turned up on their doorstep in the morning.

"You know even though you're older you're still very cute" Ryan smirked, reaching out a hand to brush Arthur's hair with his hands.

The Brit pulled back, heart pounding slightly. "I think you should leave if you don't have a reason for being here; you see its not me and Alfred's apartment..."

Arthur broke off when he found himself backed against the sitting room wall, he didn't like how close the older man was getting.

"Please leave" Arthur insisted, "or I'll have to call someone through,"

"Why? Can't get rid of me yourself? You have changed" the man laughed, "why don't we just step outside together. No need to tell your friends where."

"Let me go," Arthur tried to push past him.

He froze up when the man suddenly kissed him.

All the drozyness of the hangover was gone. He tried to cry out when the man bit his lower lip. But he managed to gain enough control of his panicking body to knee this Ryan right between the legs.

Ryan fell back with an exclamation of agony while Arthur shoved him in the direction of the door, slamming it and locking it behind him.

After that he shot, not to his brother, but into Francis' room, diving onto the bed crying against Francis' very surprised arm.

"Merde! Arthur!" Francis snapped, jumping when he suddenly felt someone clinging to his arm, "what the hell are you doing!"

Arthur didn't know what to say. He was scared; images of that man on the plane were slowly coming back to him, and he didn't want to remember them.

"Look at me and tell me what you're doing here at six in the morning!" Francis demanded.

Was it really that early?

Ryan had made sure that he'd only catch one of them up.

Arthur looked up at him blinking back the tears, flinching when Francis gasped, running his fingers over the Brit's bruised mouth. Arthur's lower lip was bleeding. He looked absolutely distraught. "What happened to you?"

He'd definitely brought Arthur home last night, and he'd been asleep when Francis had left him. So what had happened between then and now.

"He just knocked on the door and came in" Arthur choked, holding onto Francis even more tightly now he was sitting up; not caring that his head was resting against Francis' bare chest.

"Who did?" Though Francis had a horrible thought who it had been.

"That man on the plane, the one that came in on me..." Arthur began crying harder, probably loud enough to have woken Matthew and Alfred up.

There were patches of blood on Francis' chest from where the blood from Arthur's lip had dripped.

"What the fuck did you do to him!" Alfred almost lunged himself at Francis; then paused when he saw the Frenchman's equally angry look.

"That bastard you went to see yesterday just walked in and did this!" Francis snapped, not caring that Alfred was watching when he wrapped his arms around the Brit's sobbing form.

"I'll kill him!" Alfred shot from the room, and Francis heard the front door slam a few seconds later. But the fucking bastard was probably already gone.

"Let's get that lip seen to," Francis felt grateful he'd kept his boxers on last night; he knew when Arthur was back to normal he wouldn't want to see Francis' manhood, and the Frenchman didn't want to leave him alone while he got changed.

He got out of bed, taking Arthur with him to the bathroom; running the cold tap and taking a face cloth to wipe away the blood.

The phone rang and Matthew must have picked it up.

Alfred came back and explained what had happened to a very surprised and shocked looking Matthew, so the youngest blond was quite prepared for what he saw in the bathroom when he came to report Professor Keen had a severe hangover so classes were cancelled for the day; which was probably just as well.

When Arthur's lip had stopped bleeding Francis made him stick to the house with him while Alfred and Matthew went shopping for groceries.

He didn't complain to sitting on Francis' lap on the sofa while Francis read some of the book they were studying to him. Just because they had a day off, didn't mean they didn't have to work.

Matthew and Alfred would probably have to start reading when they got back as well.

Ever since he'd rushed into Francis' room that morning, Arthur didn't seem to want to separate himself from Francis.

It was odd for someone who couldn't decide whether they didn't mind him or hated him. Francis had never met someone so muddling; but anyone would be upset after what had just happened. He supposed that his room must have been the first Arthur came to in his panic. Though he knew that to be impossible from the sitting room door.

When Alfred and Matthew returned, they looked surprised to see Arthur sitting so calmly on Francis' lap- he wasn't even crying any more.

The Brit hadn't spoken but he was now breathing normally, and his previously red eyes were beginning to dry up. Listening intently to Francis' reading.

They didn't say anything; taking their own books from the mantelpiece they retreated to their own room to read the book in there.

"Did you catch him?" Matthew asked when they'd closed the door behind them, but Alfred was shaking his head,

"We can report him for that you know" Alfred muttered,

"no we can't" Matthew told him sadly, "he'll have something on one of us to hold it against us,"

"How can you be sure?" Alfred argued back,

"because that's what he does; he's too clever to do something like that without knowing he can protect himself..."

Alfred sighed, lying down on Matthew's bed, pulling Matthew down to lie beside him. They just stayed there together till one of them reached for a book for them to share.

"I'm okay now" Arthur sniffed, lifting himself from Francis' lap, looking embarrassed; touching the scab on his lower lip and feeling the bruises.

"Are you sure?" Francis put down the book, patting the space next to him on the sofa, where Arthur sat without complaint.

"I told you I'm okay now," Arthur shook his head, "I just need to process everything..."

Francis watched him 'processing' for a while, then asked the question that had been on his mind for some time, "do you hate me?"

Arthur looked a little taken aback by the question, his large moss green eyes blinking, "Of course I don't hate you..." His cheeks flushed pink and he turned away, not looking at Francis, "I just... You've done so much for me and Alfred I just feel...bad..." Arthur's voice got quieter as he spoke, beginning to fidget with his hands on his lap.

"Don't feel bad, I like having you two around; it makes the place seem more alive," he touched Arthur's cheek gently; ready to pull back if the Brit snapped at him, but Arthur said nothing, and Francis didn't linger his chances.


	9. Chapter 9

"My God Arthur what happened to you!" Eliza jumped on them when they bumped into her and Gilbert lingering outside their class in the college.

"Alfred was mucking around and knocked me into a vase" Arthur muttered, shifting a little when he felt Francis touch his arm comfortingly.

For what ever reason Eliza's face suddenly blushed deep scarlet, while she hopped up and down excitedly.

"A-Are you okay?" Gilbert stared at her with concern, then he began looking around for Roderich to see if he was the cause of this strange behavior.

"So this is the girl herself?" Antonio came up behind them nodding politely to Arthur, and punching Francis on the shoulder.

"Oh, Eliza this is Antonio my other friend" Gilbert introduced, before Eliza shot forwards eyeing Antonio very curiously.

"Wow, you're a tricky one" she murmured, standing on tip toe to examine Antonio's eyes and expression.

"Tricky?" Worriedly Antonio glanced over at Francis and Gilbert for help.

"Uke or Seme...? This has never been so difficult before, "have you ever bottomed before?"

All four of the boy's mouthed dropped open in shock.

Antonio blushed, squirming a little where he stood, "sometimes..." He muttered.

Eliza nodded, smiling now. "You're Uke, I can just tell,"

"Who's an Uke?" Lovino strolled up to them, glaring at Antonio.

The Spaniard immediately returned to his senses, clinging to Lovino's arm, "how about we go for a pizza or something after class, I'll pay..."

"Get off me, and no!" Lovino snapped, looking up viciously at Eliza, "you'd better not be blabbing that stuff that Feliciano does after Kiku's told him!"

But Eliza's face had already gone bright red again, and she was staring at Lovino and Antonio with shining eyes, "that's so adorable," then she shook her head, "So can I show Antonio a friend of mine, he's been looking for a boyfriend like him for ages?"

Lovino's glare deepened, "I didn't say I wasn't going anywhere with him, it's just... I won't let him pay for me!" With that Lovino dragged Antonio into class behind him.

Gilbert was shaking his head at her, "what are you doing to my friends?"

Francis and Arthur had just gone into class as well.

"Don't you get it?" Eliza was asking him, her voice in a dream like state, "this is just like an anime, there so obvious it hurts..."

Gilbert sighed, he would never understand girls; especially ones like Eliza. "Come on, let's get to class."

Francis found himself zoning out of what Professor Keen was saying, instead choosing to watch Arthur work. The Brit's hand kept scurrying across his notebook, his tongue sticking out a little in thought.

Part of him already felt a claim on Arthur. After all they were living in the same apartment now, and they were certainly getting on better than they had been last week.

The girl sitting next to him gave him a nudge, passing him a note and pointing to Antonio who was waving at him.

_Stop staring at him like that; you're almost drooling. Do you want to be so obvious?_

Francis glared at him, feeling his face blush. He wasn't being that obvious was he?

He scribbled a note back.

_I just wanted to see what he was writing!_

When Antonio read the note he gave him a disbelieving smirk.

After class had finished, Francis did actually have to ask Arthur if he could copy his notes because he hadn't taken any.

Arthur rolled his eyes, fishing out his notebook from his bag and handing it to Francis. "What were you doing al lesson? It looks like you haven't written anything at all,"

"I found something more interesting to pay attention to" Francis replied truthfully, half hoping Arthur caught his drift. But the Brit remained oblivious.

On the way to the bus station, Francis found Alfred and Matthew falling into step beside him. Arthur was a little way ahead, talking to Eliza.

"So..." Matthew smiled, "I think everyone in the lecture saw you eyeing Arthur up... Everyone except Arthur..."

Alfred however was not looking encouraging, "you'd better not just be after him for a quick shag; Arthur's sensitive and I won't let you hurt him over something so meaningless."

"What?" Francis stared at them, mouth agape, "look, I don't want to go out with him." Though Francis knew this was only because of what he'd promised Arthur over the weekend.

But Matthew and Alfred didn't look like they believed him for a moment.

"Is this because Arthur told gave you a line last week?" Alfred asked him knowingly, "if he did, don't take something like that to heart; half the time I don't think he even knows what he's saying."

Francis felt a small spark of hope. But he was sure Arthur hadn't completely forgotten that he'd made Francis promise he wasn't interested in him.

Sighing, Francis suppose he should just wait and see how his own feelings manifested themselves. There was no way Alfred was going to let him just shag Arthur and see how he felt about it afterwards.

Over the last week of descent feeding, Arthur had gained a little more flesh on his bones; almost fitting into his new clothes quite nicely. He was even beginning to develop a bit more of a figure.

Francis could see Arthur looking flustered at a comment that Eliza had just made of how feminine his body looked.

She parted with them at the bus. She was living on campus like most of the students for her time at college.

"Feminine huh Arthur?" Francis grinned, whispering in the Brit's ear; delighted when he saw Arthur's blush deepen.

"We're going to the movies" Alfred told them when they reached the first stop, and he and Matthew got up, "we'll be back for dinner."

"Enjoy yourselves~" Francis waved after them, laughing at Arthur's irritated noises.

They got back to the house and busied themselves in different rooms. Francis began working on tidying the kitchen, while Arthur checked over the notes he'd written in class.

"What's for dinner?" Arthur appeared in the kitchen about an hour later,

"Some sort of pork dish" Francis shrugged, "I'll have to go out to buy stuff though,"

"I'll come to" Arthur offered; he wasn't too keen on being left in the apartment on his own since Ryan's arrival yesterday morning.

Francis nodded thankfully, "that's great, it'll make it easier to carry everything back."

"Is this right?" Arthur pointed to a loin of pork on one of the shelves; he wasn't really sure what they were looking for. He knew Francis was very particular and wouldn't settle for just anything.

The Frenchman shook his head, "that stuff is loaded with chemicals" he told Arthur, leading him away towards the shelf where the expensive stuff was shelved.

Arthur's eyes widened at the prices, but he didn't say anything, as Francis loaded the food into the basket; pausing only to tap Arthur's nose playfully to stop him staring.

Francis paid for the food at the till, handing Arthur one of the shopping bags.

"Can't afford the bus fare back; we'll have to walk" Francis shrugged, "the price of these ingredients has gone up..." He shook his head, "in France I didn't have to bother with all this; everything was chemical free and wonderful..."

Francis turned in surprise when he heard Arthur laughing at him. It wasn't the usual mocking noise, but a bright cheerful sound. "You're such a Frog" he smiled, "though I suppose even in England it was easier to get less drugged up meat..."

They walked back together discussing the current book they were reading in literature- hitting many snags they needed to argue about.

They were almost back when the first drops of rain began to fall from the sky. Within minuets it was lashing it down.

"Protect the food!" Francis wailed, holding the bag tightly shut, encouraging Arthur to do the same then speed up. They only had a few blocks left.

They slid on the mud in the small grassy patch in front of the apartment block, running their trouser legs thick with mud, sometimes even their free hand when they fell over and had to steady themselves.

Inside the apartment they fell down in the hallway, trying to catch their breath back. Francis regained his first and took the food to stick it in the fridge and check not too much damage had been done to it.

Then he returned to the hall where Arthur was getting back to his feet, shivering slightly. Francis was starting too feel a bit nippy himself.

"Come on" Francis helped him to his feet, directing him to the bathroom; knowing he was probably going to get a fist somewhere when he suggested his idea, he only had to hope it wouldn't be in his lower regions. "How about we have a bath together?"

"What!" Arthur stared at him, though amazingly did not raise a fist, "I thought you promised that..."

"Non, non. I'm cold, you're cold; and we only have one bath, and I don't want either of us to get sick while the other's warming up." Proudly Francis thought he'd explained this very well.

Arthur was definitely thinking about it.

"We don't have anything the other hasn't seen before" Francis added, trying to hide his hopeful smile, "do be quick Arthur; it's freezing."

"Fine..." The Brit agreed, "but we fill the bath with bubbles and we don't look," his face coloured a satisfying red.

"Agreed" Francis beamed, beginning to run the bath water; adding the bubble mixture to the tub so the current of the running water would stir it up for them.

They turned their back to each other while they changed. Though Francis had already been able to see right through Arthur's white shirt out in the hall.

He tied his hair up with a damp looking hair band that had been in his trouser pocket.

"Are you in?" Francis checked, when he heard a slosh of water, and someone turn of the tap.

"Yeah" Arthur replied, "I've got my eyes closed."

Personally Francis didn't mind if Arthur saw him naked, but he supposed the Brit seemed to be very firm about the not looking at each other thing.

Arthur pulled his knees up to his chest, blushing as he faced Francis across the bath tub. It was impossible for at least their feet not to be touching; their knees would have been touching too if Arthur hadn't pulled his protectively to his chest.

Francis didn't worry about being embarrassed, he let himself soak in the warm water, feeling life return to his muscles again.

"Relax" he smiled, "you'll never get warm like that."

Slowly, and nervously Arthur let himself relax into the water; flinching when his knees brushed against the other's.

"I wonder what film Matthew and Alfred went to see" Francis started up a conversation, wishing he'd chosen the other end of the bath so he didn't have to shift to stop his back pressing against the tap.

He'd had baths with lovers before; but usually they sat on his lap at the other side of the bath, so it was a lot more of an enjoyable experience.

Arthur mumbled a reply, but Francis couldn't make out what it was.

"Shall I wash your hair?"

Francis might as well have been asking 'shall we fuck on the balcony' by the reaction he got to that suggestion.

"I can wash it myself!" Arthur snapped, looking half tempted to get out of the bath now; then reconsidering.

Francis felt a small rush of pleasure as he realised he had Arthur trapped; the Brit didn't want to get out of the bath if he thought Francis was looking.

"Go on then" Francis shrugged, sitting back to watch.

Holding a stiff upper lip, Arthur tried to wash his own hair for ten minuets. It was difficult due to the lack of space, and the fact that the shampoo was beside Francis' shoulder.

"Still don't need help?"

Growling some fowl language, Arthur crossed his arms. "How do we do this then?"

"First, I want to sit there" Francis told him, "this dammed tap is really hurting my back. If I get out you can scoot round and I'll get back in," he smiled lightly, "I won't look if you won't look."

Huffing, Arthur closed his eyes tightly, moving round the bath so his own back was against the taps. He didn't open them till Francis assured him twice that he was in the water.

"Now what?" The Brit blushed, already working out what he was meant to do. "You'd better be careful; I don't want to feel anything against my back" Arthur warned, scooting up backwards against Francis' chest. Jumping when Francis pressed his hand against his back.

"If you don't want to feel anything, don't move any further" Francis told him, his breath tickling Arthur's ear.

When Francis' hands began running through his hair, Arthur didn't know quite what to focus on. Francis' hands were so soothing, Arthur half wanted to melt against him. He was also uncomfortably aware by the sight of Francis' knees sticking out of the water either side of him meant that he was sitting between the Frenchman's legs.

"Shampoo Arthur," Francis called him back to his senses.

Thankful of the distraction Arthur reached forwards for the shampoo and conditioner, handing them to Francis so he could put them beside him on the edge of the bath.

Francis began massaging the shampoo into his hair.

Arthur almost bit his lip to stop himself shivering; then remembered the cut and stopped himself. Meaning he had to let the shiver go.

"Enjoying yourself?" He could almost see Francis' smirking face in his mind's eye,

"I'm just cold you pervert!" Arthur argued, though he knew it wasn't true.

Even after Francis had finished washing his hair, they still sat like that. Arthur told himself it was only because it was too difficult to move now they were sitting where they were.

"So how good is your French mon cher?" Francis asked when he was finished with the conditioner,

"Good enough to tell you not to call me that!" Arthur snapped.

"Well what does Vous êtes mignons mean?" Francis smiled, guessing by Arthur's tremble he knew what it meant.

"Don't make me sound like a girl" Arthur muttered, letting an audible breath escape him when Francis began to massage his shoulders.

Fighting back a triumphant whoop, Francis stopped what he was doing lowering his hands back into the water.

"I didn't say stop" The Brit murmured so quietly that Francis almost missed it.

Hesitantly; he hadn't actually meant for Arthur to ask for more. He didn't want to go too far with him then feel he had to leave it at that before they really got to know each other.

Francis mentally slapped his forehead, what was he even saying! He didn't get to know his partners, he just slept with them.

But he returned his hands to Arthur's shoulders all the same, feeling the Brit slope against his chest. Francis could feel in his lower regions how close Arthur was to him; even the slightest move forwards then he'd be touching him in the most intimate way.

To make matters worse he was growing hard, which meant that unless he could get himself under control he was going to have to push Arthur a lot further forwards.

"Shouldn't Matthew and Alfred have gotten back by now?" Francis tried to distract the quickly melting Brit against his chest. He was twitching; having to hold back his erection.

"Maybe they went to see several films" Arthur suggested, arching his back slightly when Francis rubbed a tender spot.

Did Arthur expect him to continue like this and still stick to his promise!

"I should probably start making dinner" Francis excused, letting go of Arthur's shoulders; lowering his hands to take hold of his cock to pull it away from the Brit's rear.

"Fine" Arthur shrugged, "close your eyes."

What happened next was completely unexpected on both parties. Francis closed his eyes and Arthur made his way to his feet. But the bottom of the bath was slippery with all the bubbles and soap, and he slipped backward.

Hearing a cry of surprise, Francis opened his eyes just in time to let his brain give the order to catch him.

When everything cleared again, and they'd both shaken their heads. The whole world froze.

Francis' hand were wrapped around Arthur's middle holding the smaller body close to his. Arthur was back between his legs. They had both slipped a little lower in the accident so Arthur was almost lying on top of him. Arthur could definitely feel his erection against his lower back.

'Kill me now' Francis thought to himself, wanting to lean back and drown himself in the bubbles.

"Y-You..." Arthur was struggling for the right words; he sounded both embarrassed and furious. Though this really wasn't Francis' fault.

"You fell!" Francis snapped before Arthur could pin the blame on him, "blame yourself for being clumsy!"

"I'm not the one who's hard!" Arthur yelled.

Feeling his blood begin to boil, Francis lowered his hand quickly before Arthur could stop him to run his fingers along Arthur's own erection; pleased to find it was smaller than his. "I beg to differ" the Frenchman growled.

He'd just remembered why he hated the English so much. How could he have even begun to like Arthur! He was just the same as the rest of them! Hypocritical, reserved, bad mannered...

Francis stopped his inner angry ramble and listened carefully. Arthur was crying...

"I'm sorry, that was too far" Francis apologised, taking his hand away from the Brit's hardened member. Not sure were to put his hands, he returned them to their previous position.

"No... It was my fault" Arthur admitted, sniffing; leaning more so against Francis for support so he could use his hands for rubbing his eyes rather than supporting his weight.

"No, I shouldn't have suggested we had a bath together, I could have waited..." Francis looked to the side, regretting everything since he'd asked Arthur and Alfred to move into the apartment with him and Matthew.

He felt Arthur turn, so they were now facing each other. His legs were tangled with Francis', letting his own arousal press against Francis' middle.

"You'd have gotten ill" Arthur told him pointedly, his face so red now that he looked like he was overheating, "besides... It's not anything we haven't seen before..."

Francis realised how deep that statement ran with Arthur.

"I shouldn't have touched you so forcefully..." Francis felt sick, "Alfred told me what that guy tried to do to you; I should have been more careful..."

"Shut up, and stop blaming yourself!" Arthur rolled his eyes, propping himself up a little bit more when Francis sat up. "Just... Let's get changed. Close your eyes while I get a towel."

_**Author's note: I'm a little distressed after a review I got on one of my stories so I might not update in a while...** _


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur went to dry himself off in his own room, but Francis stayed in the bathroom to change.

He felt light headed as he wrapped the towel around himself after seeing to his little problem. ...Arthur's body pressed so tightly around his... He'd been able to feel everything. Just remembering it made his stomach tremble.

Nobody had ever made him feel like that before.

Part of him wanted to charge into Arthur's room and fuck him right there and now, but he was pretty sure that would ruin any chance he had of doing it again.

With his towel wrapped round his waist, Francis wondered back to his room to get changed into a dry pair of clothes.

When he left his room to prepare dinner in the kitchen Arthur had still not left his room. Was he embarrassed by what had just happened?

Matthew and Alfred came back reasonably dry- they must have caught the bus; and went off to change in their room before dinner.

The smell of the finished meal seemed to pull Arthur from his room; and soon the Brit was standing nervously in the doorway, unable to look Francis in the eye.

Thankfully neither Alfred or Matthew seemed to notice this odd exchange between the two of them; they were too busy eating.

"No classes tomorrow to make up for the fact we had to come in today" Alfred beamed when he'd finished eating, clapping his hands together, "let's watch some movies or something~"

"That would be great, right Francis?" Matthew smiled, looking hopefully at Francis and Arthur who hadn't spoken a word over dinner.

"Yeah, sure" Francis nodded, "you'd like it to, right Arthur?"

The Brit nodded, "...I just want to get something from my room..." He muttered, getting up quickly after thanking Francis for the meal.

"Matthew you and Alfred go ahead and pick the movies, we'll be back in a second," Francis also got to his feet and followed Arthur out of the kitchen. Leaving his brother very confused.

When Francis arrived in Arthur's room he found the Brit sitting on his bed with his face buried in his hands cursing to himself.

"Arthur... We need to talk about this..." Francis made himself known, making Arthur jump and glare at him accusingly, "we can't just not talk to one another..."

"I..." Arthur closed his mouth again looking down at his lap.

Francis sat down next to him, feeling equally as awkward.

"We can forget the whole thing if that's what you want?" He offered, getting back up again.

"No!" Arthur pulled him back down again; just as surprised at what he'd done as Francis was. "...I mean, you can't just forget something like that..."

Francis knew he was leaning closer to Arthur, and the other boy didn't seem to be pulling away.

"So, what do you want to do then?" Francis asked when they were mere inches apart. He could almost taste the Brit from here.

Slowly and carefully Arthur closed the gap between them, letting Francis dominate the kiss; he wasn't really sure what to do.

Arthur felt himself moan when Francis prised his lips open. He was so much more gentler than Ryan had been. Francis was even being careful to avoid the healing cut on his lip. He was a little shocked when Francis' tongue slipped into his mouth but he welcomed it all the same.

Francis pulled back to let them breath again.

He smiled, running his hand along Arthur's cheek, kissing the side of his mouth tenderly.

Suddenly Arthur didn't feel like he wanted to go and watch movies with Alfred and Matthew. He wrapped his arms around Francis' neck, pulling him back for another kiss.

He felt Francis' body above his on the bed, and he loved it.

"I don't think we should tell the other two about this..." Arthur suddenly mumbled, moving away from the kisses, "...Alfred will just worry... And it's embarrassing..."

Francis was a little hurt that Arthur called it embarrassing, but Alfred was something to avoid. He was very overprotective of his brother, and Francis didn't want him to be watching their every move.

"Okay" he agreed, sitting up on the bed, "that means we'd better go watch these movies then, otherwise they'll know something's amiss."

Arthur sighed with irritation, still lying on the bed.

"What if we just tell them we're tired and to go on without us?" Arthur suggested, trying to pull Francis down again.

Laughing quietly, Francis pulled him into a sitting position.

"We'll have to watch at least an hour of the movies first, or they'll never believe that."

Arthur pouted but had to agree.

They sat down to watch some action film that Alfred had pulled out. It was one of Francis' dad's, not that he'd watched it in years.

Everyone was so into the film in five minuets that Francis half expected Arthur to forget their plan; but an hour later on the dot Arthur got up and stretched, "I'm a bit tired, I think I'm off; you lot just _carry on_," he chuckled a little at his last words; probably making some sort of reference to a British comedy.

Francis waited ten more minuets before doing the same.

Arthur was waiting for him when he arrived in the other's room. Francis almost swung the Brit into a kiss, still careful to avoid the bruising and the cut.

"I had no idea you liked me so much cher" Francis smiled, pulling back so they could talk.

The Brit looked embarrassed, slipping his hand into one of Francis', he was amazed at how big they were compared to his.

"It's hard to explain..." Arthur muttered, "I thought you didn't like me..."

"How could you even think that...?" Francis trailed off, "well... I can see why you might have thought so, but I can assure you I just wasn't sure what was going on when I started to like you..."

"Right" Arthur nodded, looking away sadly, "I know I'm not like those really fit guys, and my hair's a mess; and my eyebrows go without saying..."

"Non, non!" Francis pressed a finger to the Brit's lips; he didn't want to hear him verbally putting himself down like this, "I just meant I wasn't sure whether I just liked you as a friend or whether I really liked you. How could you even say that about yourself!" He pressed his mouth to one of Arthur's eyebrows, and ran his hands along Arthur's developing figure. "Look, I'm so worried about you now, I'm considering not even letting you out of my sight where anyone else can admire you."

Arthur blinked his deep bright moss coloured eyes looking happy. "Do you really mean that?"

Francis sighed with exasperation, forgetting about watching Arthur's lip and kissing him as hard as he could, holding the Brit's face to his so he couldn't pull away until he was finished.

When he let Arthur go, and the Brit pulled back to gasp for air, their was still a thin trail of saliva connecting them.

The Brit suddenly seemed nervous; he edged a little away from Francis.

"We don't have to... you know... do we?" He fumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course not" Francis assured him, taking the hand and kissing the back of it, before moving on to the individual fingers. "We won't do anything till you're ready. I even let you initiate the first kiss remember."

Feeling more secure, Arthur edged forwards again; but Francis held him back.

"Now I want to be sure of something" Francis told him firmly, looking the smaller male directly in the eye, "you're not just doing this because of everything that's going on at the moment. Think hard about this because sometimes you can't tell at the time..."

"Of course I'm not," Arthur's irritated tone had returned, "I think I started to like you even before we knew about this..." He clapped his hands over his mouth, embarrassed by what he'd just said.

Francis smiled widely, letting Arthur kiss him again.

"Well then, we have nothing to worry about."

Francis laid down on his back on the bed, staring at up at Arthur with a smile, patting the space beside him.

"I thought you said we weren't going to..." Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously,

"If you care to observe Arthur we are both fully clothed and I am not attempting to undress you. Trust me, if we were going to have sex you'd be naked before you even hit the bed," Francis patted the place beside him again.

The Brit was still glaring at him, but he crawled onto the bed all the same, turning his back on Francis to let him know he was annoyed with him for that last remark.

He shivered when he felt Francis spoon against him, wrapping his arms round his middle and whispering sweet words in French into Arthur's ear.

Like a cat Francis felt Arthur arching himself up against his chest to make himself more comfortable.

Even whimpering a little at the words Francis was whispering. So Arthur spoke better French than he let on did he?

Softly and slowly; so he wouldn't surprise the Brit; Francis trailed his lips over Arthur's soft skin to the place where his shoulders and neck joined that was visible just above his shirt. First he swirled his tongue over it then began to suck the smooth skin.

Arthur gasped, twitching his legs round Francis' on the sheets.

When Francis was satisfied with the purple bruise he pulled his mouth back. "There, so now even when I'm not around people know that you're mine,"

"I don't belong to you" Arthur muttered, letting out a sharper gasp when Francis took another area of skin higher up on his mouth to repeat a similar service.

"The higher I get, the more obvious it is" he smirked, now it was impossible not to spot the bright hicky on Arthur's neck; his pale skin only made it stand out more.

"You idiot, how am I going to explain this to Alfred!" He pulled his neck away from Francis' mouth, in case he was ready to give another one.

"Tell him you met a girl in a pub and made her give it to you; he'll find that less threatening" Francis shrugged, pulling Arthur onto his back so he could admire the other just lying there, looking like he belonged to him.

"Where do you come up with these things?" Arthur laughed, a feeling Francis' warmth when he smiled up at him.

"Shh" Francis grinned mischievously, holding his finger to Arthur's mouth, "that sounds like Alfred and Matthew going to bed."

The Brit fought back a giggle at how strange the situation was.

"I should wish Francis goodnight" they heard Matthew in the hall, "it's unlike him to go to bed before me..."

Arthur and Francis both held their breath.

"Don't bother Matthew, he's probably busy or asleep,"

"Okay..." Matthew yawned; they heard him and Alfred making their way to their shared room; allowing Arthur and Francis to breath again.

"That was close" Francis grinned, "but I suppose that means I should be getting to my own bed..." He got up, almost turning back when Arthur grabbed at the back of his shirt.

"Can't you stay?" He whispered.

Francis contemplated this, "does Alfred usually come into your room in the mornings on days off?"

Arthur shook his head, "he knows that I'd kill him,"

"Well, I suppose so; just let me go and get changed, you can get into those very stylish pyjamas of yours while I'm gone."

He left the room to take off his shirt, and change into a pair of pyjama trousers. He took his mobile with him just in case.

His parent's once a month call should be coming up any day, any time now, and he didn't want to miss it.

When he got back to Arthur's room it was to find the Brit standing in the funny looking childish pyjamas. Francis actually thought it was quite sweet, though Arthur was clearly embarrassed by it.

He caught Arthur looking at his body enviously.

"You're so lucky" he mumbled, almost bolting into bed when Francis tilted his head in confusion.

"Is that why you cover yourself up so?" The Frenchman laughed, crawling into bed beside him, "haven't I already told you I love your body; you don't need to be worried by it."

In fact the very idea of Arthur wearing nothing was turning Francis on in a hard way.

"So next time we do this you can wear something a little cooler if you want," he didn't want the Brit to think he was pressuring him into anything.

Holding Arthur close to his chest he let himself drift into an easy sleep, encouraged by the fact that Arthur was snuggling against him.

When they woke up there'd been no call, and Alfred and Matthew had already gone out leaving a note for them pinned to the front door.

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand..." Alfred was mumbling as he and Matthew walked through town together. They'd decided to give the cinema a rest and were going bowling then out for a pizza or something like that.<p>

"It's your fault for pushing into Arthur's room like that" Matthew told him, "I think they looked really peaceful together like that; they're probably just worried you'll get all defensive,"

"Your brother seems like a pretty flaky character when it comes to relationships; Arthur's really gullible and easy to upset... I just don't want Francis leading him on..."

Matthew sighed, "Alfred, if Francis just wanted to sleep with Arthur, he would have just slept with him or given up trying after a few days. Judging by Arthur's clothes they've slept in the same bed and not had sex. Francis must think Arthur's important to control himself like that."

Alfred sniffed, but placed a kiss on Matthew's mouth, "I suppose you're right" he admitted, "I'm just upset because Arthur didn't tell me..."

Rubbing his back comfortingly, Matthew hesitated a moment stopping in the street.

"What's wrong?" Alfred rushed back to him looking around fiercely in case someone was around who meant harm to Matthew in any way.

"You'd be surprised, but Francis is actually quite secretive about liking guys as well as females... I haven't even dared open up till you... Our father's quite..." He looked around for the right word, "traditional, and I'm sure he'd be distressed if he knew the feelings I had towards you; but Francis is his actual son and I'm sure that means he'd be furious."

"That's terrible" Alfred murmured, thinking back to his own adoptive parents back in England. They were those lovely sort of knitted hats kinds of people, he was sure they wouldn't care. In fact they'd known Alfred's preference for years. He wasn't sure how his real parents would have reacted.

"So where are you and Francis' parents anyway?" He asked, changing the subject, relaxing when Matthew fell back into step beside him.

"Who knows" Matthew shrugged, "Tokyo, London, Paris, Washington. They work everywhere. Francis was brought up by nannies and the sort. I suppose at least I had the chance to have a family like mine once; Francis has never really known that sort of love..." Matthew let his voice trail off sadly.

He could still remember when he'd first come to live with Francis and the nannies (there were always several; Francis kept terrorising them into quitting). His parents finally just let them live on their own in the apartment after they were fourteen; this was following the event when Francis had lifted up one of the nanny's skirt and insulted her flowery underwear.


	11. Chapter 11

"Nice hickies" Alfred rolled his eyes when he and Matthew came back later that afternoon; he saw Arthur open his mouth to sprout whatever excuse it was that he and Francis had come up with, "don't bother I know," he held up his hand, "Don't worry, I don't mind, and I won't watch you twenty-four seven, but he'd better not hurt you."

There was a short pause, then Arthur rushed up to his brother hugging him thankfully.

"Steady on Arty" Alfred exclaimed, though Arthur could hear the smile behind his voice when his brother hugged him back. "Classes tomorrow though" he warned Arthur, "just so if you have anything big planned, put it off until the weekend,"

"I could tell you the same thing" Arthur argued, crossing his arms. Then he looked as if something had just hit him. "Hey... Alfred... You've you know... slept with a guy haven't you?"

"_A _guy, Arthur I've slept with many; what about it?" Alfred shrugged, wondering through the kitchen for a drink.

Both Francis and Matthew were working in their rooms on the work they'd missed over the last few days, whether it be from not being in class, or staring obsessively at fellow students all lesson.

"Well... They only ever told us at school how you did it with a girl..."

Alfred felt himself choke on his sip of coke. Oh shit, he didn't need to explain this to Arthur did he?

Though he supposed he didn't want Francis doing explaining it. That perverted Frenchman could tell his innocent brother all sorts of things for his enjoyment. Alfred would rather Arthur knew it factually rather than erroticly.

"Well..." He struggled for a starting point, trying not to look at Arthur listening expression. "Well, I suppose you'll be bottom so... The other guy puts his penis..." Alfred leaned close to Arthur to whisper in his ear.

He felt his brother stiffen and turn to stare at him with shock, "doesn't that hurt!"

Admittedly Alfred had never been on bottom in his life so he didn't know on a personal level. "They use their fingers to stretch you out first so it doesn't hurt so much..." Feeling he shouldn't terrify Arthur completely, he did add, "but the other guy will be aiming for your prostate most of this time, and I'm guessing with someone as skilful as Francis it won't take him long to find,"

"What does that mean?" Arthur looked up at him with large eyes. Alfred felt a little dirty, this was like explaining anal sex to a five year old.

That was the downside to always being on top. Alfred had heard his partners groan and cry with pleasure when he caught their prostate, but he'd never felt that wonderful feeling himself. "You'll love it" was all he could say to that.

It still sounded quite painful to Arthur, but that last bit didn't sound bad; and the idea of being so intimate with someone (Namely Francis) was quite appealing as well. But he didn't think he was quite ready for that yet. He needed time to think about it first.

Tonight's dinner was probably one of the best that Arthur and Alfred had since moving in with Francis and Matthew. Not only was the food brilliant, but the conversation was friendly to.

Although they knew about Francis and Arthur, Alfred found that he and Matthew were the only ones openly displaying their affections at the dinner table.

All Francis' moves could have been mistaken for just being friendly, if it wasn't for the meaningful look he was giving Arthur with every movement.

Alfred could see years of practise in hidden flirtation coming from Francis.

Matthew had told him the story of when Francis had almost got caught by their father while they were at the bowling alley.

Apparently Francis had been doing this similar sort of flirting at one of the young men his father worked with during a business dinner he'd dragged Francis to. The young man had flirted back and he and Francis had been at it in the cupboard when their father walked back in to get something he'd left.

The four of them sat and watched a film together that evening before heading off in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Can we sleep in your room tonight?" Arthur asked nervously, "I mean... my room just seems like a guest room, I'm sure it's not as friendly as yours..."

"Sure" Francis smiled, "do you want to go and get changed first?"

When Arthur made to go, Francis held him back; an evil grin on his face, "by the way I stuck those pyjamas of yours in the wash, and gave the rest to a charity bin~"

"What!" Arthur rushed to his room, to check, and sure enough found the cupboard completely bare of all pyjamas. He rushed back to Francis seizing hold of the front of his shirt and shaking him slightly, "Why did you do that you Frog!"

Francis didn't answer, instead leading Arthur backwards into his room with a kiss.

"I told you yesterday didn't I?" Francis smirked sitting on the bed cheerfully, "you've got nothing to cover up,"

"Oh yes I bloody do!" Arthur snapped, wrapping his arms round his waist in case Francis tried to pull his clothes off; but the Frenchman seemed to be sitting patiently; waiting for him to do it himself.

"Are you going to bleeding watch me!"

"There is a lot of blood in your vocabulary isn't there cher?" Francis pulled his own shirt off, pulling out a pair of long night shorts, removing his jeans and pulling them over his boxers.

When he turned round he saw that Arthur had pulled his eyes shut while Francis was changing. He was like a child in so many different ways.

"It's easy enough for you, at least you have shorts" the Brit grumbled, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

"Don't tell me you're wearing panties Arthur? … Though I'm not complaining if you are..."

"Of course not you bloody pervert!" He snapped going red, "but I don't just want to wear my boxers; it's not fair while you're at least half dressed!"

"Okay then," Francis kicked off his shorts cheerfully enough, so he was sitting in his boxers. "Now we're equal."

Not knowing any argument to come back with, Arthur clumsily let his shirt slip to the floor, feeling Francis' hungry look trace every detail of his chest. He paused at his trousers, looking up at Francis again to see whether he'd changed his mind, or was about to spring that it had all just been a joke.

When Francis just watched him, he let his trousers fall to his ankles, immediately dashing to pull them up again. But Francis got to him first; lifting him off his feet, pulling them off completely before Arthur could cover himself again.

He felt so exposed in his gray boxers, especially with Francis so close to him. What if he had an erection and Francis saw!

When Francis dropped him on the bed he scurried under the covers as quickly as he could, peeking his nose over the covers as Francis climbed in beside him, lowering the blanket so he could get to Arthur's mouth.

"See, it's not so bad is it?" He patted Arthur's head, not that I got to see very much of you before you dived under the blanket.

Arthur flinched as Francis' arms ran along his back to rest on his thighs. The only place where he ever seemed to put on any weight, Arthur thought regretfully to himself; he was such a girl...

"Bon nuit" France whispered, his hands stroking down the inside of his thighs. Did he expect Arthur to get to sleep like this!

Eventually whether contentiously or not Francis' hands rose to his back instead. Arthur smiled lightly and kissed him lightly on the mouth before falling asleep himself.

~/~

Arthur felt Francis stirring beside him. Slowly at first. Then Francis bolted awake, leaning over him to reach the bedside table where his mobile had started ringing.

"Dad? Oh hi, how have you been?" Francis asked, running his hand along the side of Arthur's face while he did, trying to coax him back into sleep. "What? Oh, we've got some friends staying at the moment from college... Yes they're trustworthy..." Francis paused, biting his lip, "yeah they've got jobs to help around the house..."

Arthur stirred, surely Francis couldn't be talking about him and Alfred. He opened his mouth, but Francis covered it with his hand, while still paying attention to the phone call.

"What!" A look of horror passed over Francis' face, "No... Of course I'm looking forward to seeing you and mum and I'm sure Matthew will be delighted too... But what about our friends... Well I suppose they can share with me and Matthew..." Francis gave a guilty smile in Arthur's direction. "When will you be here? … Okay I'll see you then," Francis hung up then groaned loudly.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked the moment Francis' hand had been taken away from his mouth,

"Merde! My dad is one of those 'traditional' bastards that thinks all men should be straight or they're just kidding themselves!"

Arthur would never have referred to his father as a bastard. "Well, we don't need to tell your parents anything" Arthur shrugged, sitting up.

"I suppose so" Francis agreed, looking like he was thinking hard about something.

Arthur was about to go and get dressed and leave him to it, when a pair of arms lifting him from the bed.

Francis carried him bridal style back to his own room. Arthur could only be thankful that neither Alfred or Matthew had come out into the hall.

"There, I'll take you out and bring you home" Francis grinned, waving playfully over his shoulder at the ruffled looking Brit; returning to his own room to get changed.

Matthew looked just as worried as Francis had when the Frenchman broke the news to him over breakfast.

"They're coming on Sunday" he worded, "but that's hardly any time at all; what if they see through us?" Matthew had started panicking, "What are we going to do!"

Alfred comforted him softly, listening to any ideas Francis had.

"We'll just have to do our best, which means you two will have to control yourselves; me and Arthur aren't anywhere near as public as you about it. Besides, they'll only be here for a week or something like that, they'll be gone before you know it."

Arthur was listening to all this carefully, "you don't sound like you like your parents very much..." He wondered aloud.

"I hardly know them" Francis muttered, "all I know is that dad's a stuck up money grabbing bastard. The only reason he and mum haven't got a divorce is because they don't see the point in it. They sleep with each other when they're in the same conference; and with other people if they're not!"

The bus journey to college seemed tensely silent.

"What's wrong?" Antonio asked, he was waiting for them at the bus stop; surprisingly he had Eliza standing beside him.

Her eyes flicked to the still visible mark on Arthur's neck and blushed with excitement. Her sketchpad that had been reasonably empty at the beginning of the week now looked full to the brim with pictures she obviously hadn't shown the subjects.

"My parents are coming to visit" Francis muttered in reply, "you remember what I told you about my dad right?"

Antonio nodded, looking sorry for his friend and house mates. "I wonder what brings him back here?" He wondered, "I mean, you said even when he was in New York he didn't usually stay in your apartment."

Francis just shrugged.

After college on Friday upon Arthur and Alfred's insistence, Francis and Matthew took them into town to find a job.

"Every one has a part time job at our age" Arthur had argued, "it's high time we got one too." Francis just couldn't say no to that adorable determined face; and clearly Alfred had worked some kind of magic on Alfred as well.

The clothing shop where Francis had bought Arthur his new clothes had a few positions free, and they took a shine to Alfred so agreed to let him and his brother take part time work there.

While Arthur and Alfred were smoothing over the details with the manager Francis and Matthew wondered round the shop.

"Why are you looking at that?" Matthew wondered round to where Francis was standing in the women's section. He was looking up at a plain white dress that looked like it would just about fit... Matthew spluttered with laughter, "getting him into that will be like that time you tried to dress up the neighbour's cat in your old baby clothes."

Francis scowled at him, them looked back at the dress, "but don't you agree non, that he would look very sexy in that?"

Matthew threw up his hands in defeat wondering away to find something in the _male _section that might suit Alfred. It wasn't his funeral.


	12. Chapter 12

"What did you buy?" Arthur peered at Francis' purchase curiously.

Francis snapped it back, refusing to acknowledge Matthew's smirk.

Suddenly Alfred stopped, looking back at Francis and Arthur with pleading looks. "Can you guys just go and spend the night somewhere else?"

"What!" Francis snapped, "you can't just boot me out like that! Where are we meant to sleep!" He demanded.

Matthew shifted his feet nervously, looking a little disappointed. For once Arthur read the scene quicker than Francis.

"Come on, we can stay in me and Alfred's student place; we still technically own it," he tried to silently converse what Alfred and Matthew must have agreed to do tonight.

"Fine" Francis sniffed, "but we're going there right now,"

Arthur was a little taken aback, "but don't we need pyjamas..." He broke off; knowing this was the deal Francis was offering him in exchange for spending a night in the terrible student accommodation.

"Let's go then" Arthur muttered; he still had the key attached to his keyring.

"Thank you Arty," Alfred hugged his brother tightly, whispering in his ear so only Arthur could hear what he had to say, "and if you decide to do anything with him don't anything you don't want to."

Arthur flushed, giving Alfred a small shove in the chest.

He and Francis set off to catch a bus back to college.

Francis supposed it wouldn't be too bad, he might be able to bump into Antonio and have a nice conversation, before crawling into bed next to Arthur... Unless... Francis suddenly had other ideas on what to do tonight.

He did meet Antonio outside in the hall cursing and banging the drinks machine. He looked rather upset about something.

Feeling that even with Arthur there, he needed to stop to at least ask Antonio what was wrong.

"Lovino thinks I like his brother again..." He mumbled,

"How could he think that, you follow _him_ around everywhere like a lost puppy," Francis was surprised at this, "did you do something differently?"

"Well I had a conversation with Feliciano in the hall, about how things were going with Ludwig; but that was it..." Antonio shook his head, pulling a smile for Francis, "hey don't let me keep you," he glanced in the bag, "I'm sure your friend will look great in that," he winked.

Patting Antonio's back reassuringly, Francis hurried after Arthur.

The Brit had just managed with a grunt to get the door open. It looked a little empty now that no one was living in it, but there was still a thin blanket covering the two beds.

"Are you going to tell me what's in the bag now?" Arthur asked, making a grab for it, "you're avoiding showing me."

Taking Arthur's wrist to keep him steady, Francis opened the bag a crack; letting the Brit see the contents.

"You can't be serious!" Arthur tried to back away, struggling to get his grip out of Francis' vice like grip.

"Here's the deal cher, either you put it on or I will." Even though Francis knew he had a good body, it was not the sort of body that could wear a dress like that. Once when he was younger one of the nanny's daughters had leant him some of her dresses and they'd really suited him; but that was then.

"Your joking," Arthur turned away with his arms folded across his chest, though he didn't look completely like he was certain of this.

"I'll do it now" Francis warned, pulling his shirt off, and pulling the dress out of the bag.

"No, please don't!" Arthur grabbed it off him; considering whether to just throw it out the window, but now Francis was expecting him to change into it.

"Unless you assure me you'll put it on now, I'll make you change here and watch you," Francis could feel himself winning this.

"Alfred told me not to do anything for you I didn't want to do" Arthur muttered, feeling embarrassed at bringing up his brother. It felt a little like bringing your mother up when someone suggested you should run across throw a paper plane at a teacher.

"Did he really" Francis smirked, playing to Arthur's pride.

"Fine!" Arthur spun round in the direction of the bathroom with the dress tucked unceremoniously under his arm.

Francis waited patiently outside the bathroom. Matthew doubted his skills too much. Just because he was nice to Matthew didn't mean he was to everybody.

"I'm not coming out" Arthur muttered from behind the door.

"Yes you are" Francis told him, "or I'll come in and get you; I know the lock on this door doesn't work."

He stepped back when he felt the door beginning to creak open.

"I feel stupid," Arthur's cheeks burned from the crack in the door, "and I hate you for making me do this you perverted Frog,"

"out you come" Francis ignored the jibes.

Slowly Arthur forced himself into sight, tugging uncomfortably at the hem of the dress. The dress came down to just below his knees, with a square neck that ended about 10cms from his neck, with short puffy sleeves. It reminded France a little of those dresses women may have worn in the late middle ages.

He motioned Arthur towards him, knowing if he could make Arthur do this, he could make him do anything. This was going to be a fun night.

"Very lovely mon cher" he cooed, but he did not lay a finger on the Brit. "How about we play a game?"

"What sort of game?" Arthur asked nervously, tightening his hold on the hem.

"Just do everything I tell you to" Francis beamed, leading the way into Arthur's old bedroom; pulling one of the seats from the kitchen with him, and propping up in one corner in view of the bed, seating himself down.

"What are you doing?" Arthur blinked, seating himself down on the bed.

Francis ignored his question, looking like he was thinking hard.

"Drop your boxers" he ordered, making Arthur turn every single colour he thought it possible for a human face to turn, and then some.

"I did not agree to playing this stupid game!" He argued, turning away,

"Go on cher" Francis pressed, not moving from were he was sitting or changing the smug expression on his face.

Keeping his back to the Frenchman, Arthur bit his newly healed lip shifting his hands over the dress' material, and finding his waistband he began to edge his boxers off, shivering when he felt them slip down his legs to the floor.

He couldn't stop himself it was like he had to obey everything Francis told him to do. Then he realised why he was doing it. He wanted Francis to sleep with him. Fine he'd play along with this game; but he was going to stop it being so one sided.

He sat back on the bed. Narrowing his eyes at Francis with a smirk of his own, positioning himself in a suggestive way. He was pleased to see Francis flinch.

Francis inwardly cursed. So this was how Arthur wanted to play it then. He got up from the chair and sat down on the bed next to Arthur. "Sit on the bed with your back to me" he ordered, having to use every part of his will power to hold back from just fucking Arthur right here and now.

Arthur did as he was told looking curious as to where they were going next.

"I want you to make room for me" Francis whispered, sounding like he was probably only mere inches from Arthur's ear.

"Make room?" Arthur was confused, then he remembered the conversation he'd had with Alfred earlier in the week. Francis wasted him to do this bit himself!

"Put your fingers in your mouth, it'll make it a little easier," at least Francis' voice did sound a little concerned.

Trailing his tongue along his fingers Arthur drenched them in as much saliva as possible. As demeaning as it was, he knew he had to arch his back a little to reach his entrance.

He hesitated before pressing the first finger inside himself. It was more painful than anything he'd experienced for many years.

"I can't" he panted, tears streaming down his cheeks, "please, you do it." After that first finger Arthur wasn't sure he wanted anybody to do it, but there was no going back now.

"Okay... Sorry for asking you to do that," he felt Francis lower him onto his back. He noticed Arthur's hardened members sticking up through the dress material. "Shall I deal with that first?"

"Just do something!" Arthur snapped, feeling a little ill with nerves; and he was sure Francis touching his member would be a lot less painful.

Everything that washed over him in the next few seconds was exhilarating. Arthur felt deep moans catch in his throat as Francis ran his tongue along the bottom of his erection, almost in a taunting way; his head was between Arthur's legs, holding up the dress material for a better angle.

"Gah! Francis~" He was breathing heavily, unsure whether to spread his legs or try and cover himself up.

He almost cummed straight into Francis' hand when the Frenchman pressed down on his already pre-cum dripping tip, before swirling his mouth around it to polish off the pre-cum.

Still with his hand running along his penis, Francis pulled Arthur so he was sitting on his lap, kissing him meaningfully, grinning against Arthur's silenced moans.

"Enjoying yourself yet cher?" He smiled, giving Arthur's cock a firm squeeze.

With a cry Arthur released into his hand, falling against his lover's chest still panting.

When he gained his breath back, he glanced up at Francis; eyes already watery and cheeks flushed pink. "Are you going to...?"

Francis nodded, holding out his fingers for Arthur to suck.

"I'll try and be gentle" he promised.

Giving a brave nod, Arthur took the digits in his mouth, drenching them in saliva. This however was the first time he'd gotten Francis to make a noise. Pausing for a moment with surprise, Arthur nipped the end of one of the fingers; receiving another moan from Francis in exchange.

By the time Arthur had finished with his fingers they were red and dripping.

Francis pulled him close to him, kissing him softly as he inserted the first finger. Arthur let out a cry of pain, tears falling from his eyes.

As soon as he had made enough room, Francis slipped in the second finger. The Brit was still crying, tensing every muscle in his body; making it more difficult for Francis to spread his fingers.

"Take the dress off," he needed to distract him in some way; and it was blocking his sight of Arthur's naked body.

"I thought you wanted it on?" Arthur managed to choke with a note of irritation.

"Take it off now."

It seemed to serve as a suitable distraction. Arthur wasn't quite so tense and the pained noises had stopped. Francis hated the idea he was putting Arthur through so much pain for this, just because he couldn't keep his hands off him any longer.

He needed to find the spot he was looking for.

Brushing his fingers around inside Arthur, he knew he'd found the right spot when Arthur whipped his head back in shock, letting out a pleasured moan.

"So that's what Alfred meant..." Arthur heard himself mumble, seeing his vision cloud; he just wanted Francis to touch him there again and again.

Like Alfred had predicted, Francis' aim was brilliant; Arthur allowed himself to be finger fucked, even rocking his hips a little; he didn't even feel Francis add the third and last finger.

He did however feel Francis enter him.

How couldn't he, even in the bath he hadn't realised Francis was so big. All the space Francis had made just seemed to be used up fitting Francis' own throbbing member inside him.

He felt a short stab of pain again when Francis lowered him down again, beginning to rock his hips slowly; letting Arthur get used to the pace.

"You feel so good..." Francis let the words escape him, beginning to thrust a little faster, holding Arthur's hips to help him meet the faster thrusts.

Arthur's heavy pants made his cock stiffen even more so. He thrusted against that spot he'd found with his fingers, letting the Brit's moans wash over him; lapping every single one up into his memory.

"I think my hips are going to split!" Arthur cried when Francis gave a particularly hard thrust, almost pulling himself out of Arthur then slamming back into him.

Francis also thought he caught the sight of blood on the sheets, he pressed down to kiss Arthur; feeling the Brit release again against his chest, while he filled the inside of him.

He pulled his limp cock quickly out of Arthur, leaning over his smaller lover with a look of concern. "Are you okay?" He asked when Arthur continued to leak tears and gasp for air.

"Of course not you bloody idiot!" He snapped with as much energy as he could muster; then he bit his lip, "am I bleeding?"

Nervously, Francis moved Arthur's body slightly.

"Just a bit" he admitted guiltily, kissing Arthur tenderly and pulling the thin cover over their bodies. It wasn't thick enough to hide the view though, so even now Francis could see every detail of the Brit's exhausted body.

"Goodnight" Arthur muttered, falling asleep almost instantly against Francis' chest,

"Goodnight mon cher" Francis replied, placing a kiss on Arthur's forehead, holding the other body close so they could share each other's body warmth, before drifting off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Groaning, Francis rolled over in bed, ignoring his ringtone. Even if it was his parents he wasn't going to let them ruin this moment with Arthur.

The Brit was still sleeping soundly, and Francis was worried the mobile would wake him.

While he was asleep Arthur looked so peaceful; and Francis knew the poor boy's hips would probably be agony when he woke up. He wanted to prolong that for as long as possible.

However the fourth time it rang he decided he'd better pick it up. He kept his voice to a whisper.

"Who the hell is this! … Dad? ….Why are you calling?" Francis jolted, "What do you mean you came early! ...What? Where am I? I was out with friends last night... Yeah, I'll be home soon."

Stuck between two options Francis wondered whether to leave Arthur a note and go alone, or wait the Brit up.

Deciding he couldn't leave Arthur alone after a night like that, he softly nudged the Brit awake.

"W_th_hat time is it?" He slurred, making a sharp noise when he tried to sit up,

"My parents arrived at the apartment this morning, they want me to get over there right now..." He looked Arthur up and down with concern, "do you want to sleep a bit longer? I can come and get you later..."

"Good morning to you too" Arthur muttered grumpily, looking a little hurt.

"Pardon cher" Francis apologised, kissing him, "but I really need to go,"

"I'll come too" Arthur told him decisively, forcing himself to his feet; his legs promptly gave way beneath him. Francis managed to catch him.

"Arthur look at you, you'll do yourself some damage," Francis tried to lead him back to bed, but Arthur fought back and managed to stand up by himself.

Admitting defeat, Francis helped Arthur to dress himself.

They left the student flat together, though Arthur was still walking with a slight limp.

Antonio was standing outside his own flat mouthing at Francis _"I heard everything" _he winked giving a thumbs up when Arthur wasn't looking.

All the way back on the bus Francis was trying to think up a reasonable excuse as to why he hadn't been home to greet his loving parents when they arrived extra early just to surprise him.

When he and Arthur got back to the apartment it was to find that Matthew must have already made up some sort of excuse for them because his parents didn't seem to concerned any more.

Arthur was glancing at Francis' parents nervously, clearly fighting the urge to hide behind Francis and cling to his arm.

His mother was a very beautiful highly impressive looking woman. She was smoking a cigarette and sitting on one of the sofa's armrests. Looking around the flat as though checking everything else was still in place.

However next to Francis' father she looked like she could win parent of the year. His father was a very tough looking man, even taller than Alfred. He had dark greying hair and fierce looking eyes. It was clear from this Francis obviously had taken after his mother at least in looks. Matthew had once mentioned that Francis was like a more warmer male version of their mother.

"Kiss your mother Francis" Mr Bonnefry growled when he saw his son.

Nodding, Francis moved away from Arthur's side placing a cold kiss either side of his mother's cheeks, stepping back quickly; his eyes fixed to the floor.

"So are these your friends?" His father continued, looking round at Alfred and Arthur, "so where are they working?"

"Conception, that clothing shop in the centre of the shopping block" Alfred replied, his own voice sounded cold but also smooth. Alfred was one of those sorts of people that refused to be intimidated.

Mr Bonnefry gave a stiff nod in acknowledgement, before switching his grey eyed gaze on Arthur. "So what are you and your brother studying at the college?"

"Literature" Arthur managed to force out; almost losing the power to speak in mid-sentence. He hoped it wasn't too obvious that he was shaking all over.

"Francis I need to talk to you after lunch," Mr Bonnefry's attention was back on his son, "go help your mother make lunch." The accent and wording suggested to Alfred and Arthur that Francis' father was either American by birth or he'd spent an awful lot of time here.

"Come along Francis," Francis' mother spoke for the first time, putting out her cigarette and rising to her feet. Her accent was one of the richest French accents Arthur had ever heard, it made Francis almost sound English in comparison.

Arthur and Alfred exchanged glances, unsure if they were allowed to move yet. But Matthew was discretely motioning them towards the door, so they hurried out of the room as well; leaving Mr Bonnefry alone in the room.

"So, these are interesting new friends you have non?" Francis hesitated as his mother spoke, giving a murmur of agreement. "Don't mumble Francis, or has your vocabulary depleted since I last saw you?"

"Beaucoup de choses peuvent changer en quatre ans," _A lot can change in four years _Francis clamped his hand over his mouth the moment he'd spoken. Surely she was going to call his father through, then he was really for it.

But to his surprise she laughed.

"Non, of course you've grown; you've become more assertive, that's good," then she hesitated, "This Arthur et Alfred, they're not just friends of yours and Matthew's are they?" She sounded more worried than angry, her eyes flicking back to the door that was screening them from Francis' father.

Even though he was surprised, Francis kept the pretence up; she could just be trying to get stuff from him to report back to her husband.

"I don't know what you mean," he turned away to fetch something from the fridge.

"Francis, although I don't see you often, I am still your mother; and mothers know these things," she beckoned him back, squeezing her son's shoulder reassuringly, "don't worry, I won't tell your father... But I will tell you this, he's about to give you a choice between whether you want to continue to lie to him or yourself..." She looked quickly back at the door as though she was afraid that her husband was listening in.

"What do you mean?" Francis asked, feeling a horrible wave of foreboding and confusion, "what's he going to tell me?"

But she shook her head, "I can't tell you, just wait till after lunch."

Francis found that he was preparing the rest of lunch in silence with his mother. Also he was beginning to feel a little ill; what was it that his father wanted to talk to him about?

Lunch was incredibly tense, no one spoke voluntarily, except for Mr Bonnefry. Francis' mother had returned to her old silence and was eating quietly with small mouthfuls.

Arthur was eating less under Mr Bonnefry heavy stare, Francis felt more worry beginning to pile onto him. He'd worked so hard to help Arthur reach a normal weight, was his father going to put all that hard work to vain, by putting the Brit off his food again.

"You sound English," the way his father's put it, it made it sound like he was almost accusing Arthur.

"I'm from Oxford, I was born in London" Arthur answered, almost stopping eating all together, "Alfred was born in New York though, we were adopted." He seemed to think Mr Bonnefry was referring to the differences between him and Alfred's accents.

Mr Bonnefry dismissed all of this, then said quite openly to his son, "why did you let this filth in here?"

Yep, that settled it. Mr Bonnefry was French, he'd just spent a lot of time in America.

Francis felt himself clench his fist under the table, trying to stop the anger spreading to his expression. Was his father trying to provoke him!

"Arthur's a friend father" Francis forced his voice to stay calm.

The rest of the meal passed by without another word spoken.

When they were about to get up, Mrs Bonnefry asked Arthur to help her with the dishes. Mr Bonnefry didn't look happy about it, but it was clear he was in a hurry to tell Francis whatever it was that his mother had told him would be so life changing.

Left in the kitchen Arthur bit his lip looking nothing less than terrified of this woman. But she'd brought a small smile to her lips, looking Arthur up and down.

"So are you Francis' lover?" She asked, making Arthur jump- only too glad he hadn't picked up any of the dishes yet.

He shook his head, knowing that he was a terrible liar. Had Francis told her?

"Don't worry, it's only my husband that worries so much about these things..." She began running the water in the sink, motioning for Arthur to bring her the dishes. "You seem like a nice boy, and so does your brother; I've never seen anyone look at my husband like he did," she chuckled slightly.

It was only being this close to her, Arthur began to see signs of stress on the beautiful woman's face. There were lines under her eyes that she'd tried to cover up with make-up, and it looked like there was a fading bruise on her cheek as well.

"Your name is Arthur oui?" She asked, watching Arthur nod, "I think I'd better give you a heads up on what my husband and Francis are discussing."

~/~

"Francis" Mr Bonnefry began pacing up and down in front of his son once they'd closed the door, "how old are you now?"

"Eighteen" Francis muttered, unsurprised that his father couldn't remember.

"As my only son you will know of course that I expect you to take over my business when I am too old to carry it on any more," Francis nodded; honestly he had no intention of taking over Mr Bonnefry's business and was secretly hoping his father suffered a sudden Heart attack so he could sell it.

His father seemed to be sensing some sort of stubborn denial in him, because he let a small growl escape his lips.

"In order to make a successful business you need alliances" he continued, "you can get these through contracts."

Francis inwardly sighed; did his father think he was an idiot?

"These contracts" he continued, "can take any form, including the one your mother's and mine made."

Francis who had previously been lazily nodding, jolted. "What do you mean?"

"One of my rival businesses' leaders has a daughter called Joan; she is a nice girl about sixteen I think, she'd make a brilliant wife for you. I've already signed the necessary papers to agree to your engagement. She's flying in from Paris tommorow for you to meet her... Did you just say no?"

Every part of Francis' being was shaking. His father wanted him to get married! He'd already signed the engagement papers without even asking his son!

"I won't marry her!" Francis suddenly shouted, at the same time his mother finished explaining to Arthur.

His father's previously cold face turned to one of rage. "And why not!" He demanded, taking hold of Francis by the front of his shirt, "She is a good looking girl, with a lot of money; why wouldn't you want to marry her!"

From now on it was do or die.

"Because I'm already dating someone!" He shouted back, knowing he was probably signing Arthur's death warrant as well as his own.

"I don't care!" His father spat, "I'll tell you what I'll do, if you don't meet Joan then I will hunt whoever this person is and be certain to insure you find their body in a ditch!"

Francis had never hated someone so much in his life.

He was now weighing up the chances that his father was serious.

His father clicked his fingers, bidding someone to join them in the apartment, "Francis, this is my new director Mr. Ryan Evans; he is a pretty good scout and I'm sure if I ask he'll know where to find this 'lover' of yours," he hit Francis round the face with his last words.

Then it rose to Francis that his father already knew about him and Arthur. He had no idea that slimy snake in the grass could be working for his father.

"I'll meet her" Francis hissed, feeling blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue, "just make sure it doesn't look like you've forced me to this interview too much!"

He grunted as his father's foot made contact with his gut. "There, bruises don't show under clothes" he smirked, "I'll go and unpack."


	14. Chapter 14

Francis didn't even have any time to tell Arthur about what was happening. His father had phoned up for him to have a day of college, and announced Francis' engagement over breakfast.

He saw Arthur turn a little pale but otherwise he didn't look shocked. That was when Francis remembered his mother asking Arthur to help her with the dishes; she must have warned him.

Alfred and Matthew however were completely shocked. Matthew offered him his congratulations with a slight enquiring look, while Alfred just shook his hand coldly. The American couldn't seriously didn't think Francis wanted to do this!

The only reason Francis had even agreed to meet this Joan was because his father had threatened his lover, and and dropped a subtle hint that he knew who he was. Francis was doing all of this to protect Arthur.

In the car on the way to his father's offices in New York, all he could think about was how good Arthur's body had felt against his mere nights ago. His heart gave a tight clench as he realised, as to what he had thought when Arthur and his brother had first moved in, about there being others out there. The truth was that now he had hold of that proud, insulting, loud mouthed Brit; he didn't want any one else.

He couldn't marry Joan, but he couldn't stay here. It would put everyone at risk. They couldn't leave the country because of this flight enquiry, wherever he looked they were trapped.

"We heard about the flight enquiry," his father spoke almost at the same time Francis thought it. Could this bastard read his mind! "That means Matthew can't go anywhere for the time being, I think those friends of yours were also involved in some way; so they're stuck too."

Maybe Francis should just strangle his father. Or would that be too obvious?

"I also don't see why your friends should be staying with you; don't they have a perfectly good student apartment?"

Francis bit his lip, "like I said, they've got a job and are helping with the rent; it's easier to split it between four,"

"Well in that case me and your mother will pay half."

Francis almost found his eyes trailing to his mother, begging her to help. But he knew she wouldn't do anything.

Joan was indeed a very young looking girl. Surely his father couldn't expect her to marry him yet; she was barely of age. She was pretty admittedly with a smooth heart shaped face and wispy short blond hair. But Francis didn't want her.

"H-Hello" She murmured in a rich French accent, "M-My name is Joan, I don't know very much English though..." She shifted nervously.

Suddenly, Francis also felt sorry for this poor thing. How was he to know her father hadn't forced her into this either. She definitely didn't look comfortable.

"My name is Francis," Francis held out his hand, being sure to sound distant, so she got the message he wasn't happy with this either.

She gave him an acknowledging nod, a thankful look swimming into her eyes.

Francis looked up at the other two men still standing in the room. Were their parents intending to watch them the whole time?

"I speak good Spanish" Joan suddenly spoke up, "do you?"

"Yes..." Francis wasn't sure where they were going with this, he remembered that was how he had made friends with Antonio. He'd been talking Spanish to show off to Feliciano, and Francis had wondered up and started talking in Spanish with him instead.

"Do you Mr Bonnefry?" She suddenly looked up with an innocent expression at Francis' father. So this is what she was doing? Francis suddenly clocked on when his father shook his head. She turned playfully to Francis, "I don't believe you, speak some to me."

This was his chance, "Usted es un genio" Francis congratulated, and indeed he believed it.

"Por lo que están tratando de obligarlo a salir?" _So who are they trying to force you to leave? _Joan asked, keeping her tone evasive so their father's wouldn't catch on.

"mi novio" _My boyfriend_ Francis admitted, with a slight grin; he knew that had surprised her, "¿y usted?" _And you?_

"Mi novio en París. No es rico por lo que mi padre no aprueba" _My boyfriend in Paris. He's not rich so my father doesn't approve _she told him, laughing a little to make it sound like they were talking about something else.

"¿Cómo se te amenaza?" _How are they threatening you? _Francis raised his eyebrows suggestively; he was kind of enjoying this little game they were playing.

"Mi padre dice que va a hacer para que mi amor no puede encontrar trabajo en cualquier lugar de Francia," _My father says he'll make it so my love can't find work anywhere in France _Her voice sounded pained, but it could have been mistaken for an overbearing emotion.

"Mi padre dice que va a matar a la mina," _My father says he'll kill mine _Francis gave a small chuckle, watching Joan trying to hide the horror on her face. "¿cómo vamos a parar esto? Estoy atrapado." _How are we going to stop this? I'm trapped._

Joan looked like she was thinking, "Jugamos a lo largo de, por ahora hasta que algo sale" _We'll play along for now until something comes up_ she suggested, snapping back into English. "Well it was very nice to meet you Francis," she forced herself to blush, "I hope I'll see you again soon..."

Francis kissed the hand that she offered, trying to make it look passionate, "I enjoyed this a lot more than I thought I would."

Despite everything, Francis could do nothing to stop his father kicking Alfred and Arthur out of the apartment. He even offered to drive them back to their student block.

Matthew was biting his lip, his usual sign that Francis had come to know when he was about to burst into tears.

Even though they still had classes together it was like his father had spoken with Professor Keen, and suddenly he was no longer able to even sit in the same side of the room as Arthur. But not only that, he'd also done something to keep Alfred and Matthew apart too.

Though it was obvious he had nothing on Alfred or Matthew because they carried on regardless at every chance they got.

Francis was driven to and from college; he was even driven to work.

Over the next few weeks it was almost painful to see how thin Arthur was getting again. He'd exchanged quick words with Alfred in the form of notes passed during lessons.

_I try to get him to eat but he'd just gone right off it. I'm really worried about him now; he's just lost all the life in him – Alfred_

He had to make an effort to talk to Arthur today.

It was the third week since he and Alfred had been thrown out. The Police enquiry had met a dead end and seemed to be backing away from the investigation. Though for some reason Matthew, Alfred, and Arthur were still expected to stick around.

"Arthur!" He found himself pushing through the crowd when class finished, he saw Arthur turn and look at him; then the Brit was hurrying away slipping between the gaps in the mass that only he could fit through.

Didn't Arthur want to see him?

"Master Bonnefry?" It was the voice of that infernal driver. Francis ignored him, continuing to push through the crowd. He had to get to Arthur whether the Brit wanted to see him or not.

That dammed driver was probably phoning his father now; he didn't have much time.

He chased Arthur all the way up to his student block; which didn't seem to have a lock. On the way past he almost crashed head long in Lovino who was storming away from Antonio's apartment with a deep blush on his cheeks.

"Arthur talk to me," he pushed open the door and wondered into the seemingly empty looking apartment.

He could hear the shower running so guessed where Arthur must be. He tried the door, only to find it to difficult to open; the Brit must have put something behind it.

"Please" he begged, "my father will be here in a moment; I need to know that you're eating, that you're taking care of yourself; at least let Alfred try to help."

"You shouldn't be here" was the only muffled reply he got.

"Oubliez ça!" _Forget that! _Francis heard himself shout, forcing all his weight against the door; feeling it begin to slide open. He stood back a little to give himself some momentum and managed to force the door open enough to slip in.

A bucket filled with cement had been holding the door shut.

Arthur was sitting under the shower head, not even having acknowledged Francis having gotten through his barrier.

Feeling tears in his eyes, Francis brushed into the shower, wrapping his arms around the Brit's small form. He was ill, Francis could just tell.

"He said he'll turn you out on the street and have me and Alfred thrown out of the college if I tried to see you" Arthur choked, clinging to Francis' neck; letting loose thick sobs of misery.

"He tried to intimidate Alfred too, but Al just told him..." Arthur made a noise that sounded between laughter and despair, "he told your father to go fuck himself and that Matthew wasn't his son anyway."

Francis gave a tearful chuckle as well; he'd have loved to see his father's face when Alfred told him that.

Unable to bare it any more, Francis pressed his mouth to Arthur's, forcing him to return the kiss.

"I don't care any more" Francis whispered, before moving in to deepen the kiss, "we're getting out of here; me, you, Alfred, and Matthew. The Police can't keep us here any longer, I'm sure it's against something in that long constitution of there's."

"Where will we go?" Arthur shook his head, "we can't go anywhere; he'll find us,"

"We'll go visit your parents; you know technically we're all citizens of the EU we don't need a visa, plus me and Matthew never became American citizens, and I'm guessing Alfred sort of became legally British?"

Arthur allowed himself to feel hopeful again. Francis was right, it was possible to get out.

"But your father, he'll cut off all the money you and Matthew get," Arthur plummeted again, trying to struggle away from Francis,

"I don't care!" Francis pulled him back, "Don't you get it. I don't care what I argued about when we were talking about Romeo and Juliet... Though this has been longer than two days... Je t'aime you stupid Brit."

With that Arthur just exploded into more tears, but it gave Francis the time to turn off the shower and carry the other out of the bathroom to his bedroom where he could change him into dry clothes.

Francis himself was soaked, but he didn't have any clothes that he could change into. He was certainly not wearing any of Alfred's stupid stuff.

Come to think of it where was Alfred?

Arthur let Francis peel off his wet clothes.

Francis was horrified; he could see Arthur's ribs quite clearly on his frame. Any doubts he'd had of running off with Arthur and the others to England left him very quickly. Not only that but there were horrid zig zag slashes all over Arthur's arms.

"Who did this to you!" Francis demanded, taking hold of Arthur's right arm where the damage was most prominent. When Arthur said nothing, it hit him, "Did you do these yourself?"

Again he got no reply, but he knew he was right.

He bundled Arthur into fresh clothes, then wondered what to do about himself.

"Catch," Francis turned round just in time to be hit in the face with an arm full of his clothes. Alfred and Matthew stood in the doorway, though Alfred was jumping off to his own room.

Matthew had his face turned in a firm little way that was quite cute. "Your mother gave me details to her bank account, she says we're free to spend where necessary on the condition that we get out of here now! There's a flight leaving for Heathrow in about two hours. We need to be on it!"

It seemed like everything was playing out for them now.

Francis changed quickly and helped Arthur to pack. Matthew already had a suitcase full of his and Francis' stuff.

"When did you have time to get all this?" Francis asked in amazement,

Matthew grinned, "your mum's been planning this for ages; she even booked us tickets. She got your dad out of the house for a few hours so we could pack and get on that plane before he even knew we were gone."

Taking in a deep breath Francis knew he'd never know how to thank his mother enough. Sure she hadn't been around a lot of the time; but now she was needed she was certainly doing everything to help.

With everything packed, they left the apartment as quickly and quietly as they could.

"What's going on?" Antonio poked his head round his own door, "you look like you're running off. No, don't tell me; you are running off," he smiled, running out to hug Francis, "I'll hold out here don't worry; but once all this has blown over write okay. I won't even tell Gilbert where you are if you don't want me to..."

Francis laughed, hugging his friend tightly, "you're a brilliant friend Toni, don't worry I will write."

"Come on" Alfred motioned, tapping his watch.


	15. Chapter 15

Francis smiled to himself.

They were on the plane everything so far was going well, Arthur was sleeping soundly with his head resting lightly on his shoulder. Francis ran his fingers through the Brit's messy hair in a soothing way.

All through the airport checks they'd been terrified that Francis' father was going to turn up and stop them but Francis' mother must be more persuasive than they'd given her credit for. Then there'd been the panic about the forged passports his mother had given them, but they'd also checked out.

Alfred and Arthur had been a little frightened of the plane at the beginning, but now both of them were asleep.

"Where did they say they lived again?" Francis whispered to Matthew who was sitting next to Alfred in the seat in front.

"Oxford wasn't it?" Matthew shrugged, yawning and resting his own head back on the seat, "I'm tired..."

"Get some sleep Matthew" Francis smiled, "It's a long flight."

Francis let his own head rest on top of Arthur's, rolling their seats back a little bit so it was almost like they were lying down.

"Je ne vous aime" Francis smiled as he closed his eyes,

"I really love you too Frog," Arthur's words seemed to have come from his subconscious, because he looked very asleep to Francis. But he smiled all the same.

When Francis woke up they were just landing in Heathrow airport. Nobody had stopped them; they might actually get away with this.

Francis' head was still spinning from the adrenalin of the escape. He needed to shake Arthur awake, and kick the back of Alfred and Matthew's chairs to wake them up so they knew they were arriving.

Once they'd collected their luggage they set about deciding how to get from here to Oxford without a car.

They supposed the train was the most logical, though Francis had always personally hated the English railway service.

People said the railways in Spain were bad; the ones in England were twice that. They never ran on time and were heavily overpriced. Most of the rails had also been laid in the Victorian age; surely that wasn't safe!

But he had to agree because it was ridiculous to pay for a taxi fare.

They had to get money out of a hole in the wall because they were all carrying dollars.

With the new pound notes they paid for their train tickets and prepared themselves for another journey.

"Are you sure your parents will let us stay?" Matthew asked worriedly, "I mean, won't we be bothering them?"

"Of course not" Alfred laughed, nuzzling his face in Matthew's hair, "they'll be delighted to see us; mum will probably knit you and Francis a sweater to celebrate."

Francis and Matthew almost felt jealous of the other two; they were so lucky to have adoptive parents like that.

Matthew let his mouth fall open in amazement. England looked a little like France; but it was so lusciously green. He supposed that was the plus side to lots of rain. It didn't look as wild as he could remember Canada either.

When they pulled into Oxford he could see that the buildings looked very different to France's. They were quite formally built with narrow streets; most French streets were quite wide. And of course there were colleges belonging to the University dotted around all over the place.

"We'll have to walk quite a bit" Arthur told them, "we live on the outskirts where the houses are cheaper."

Matthew offered to pay for a taxi with Francis' mother's money, but Arthur refused. "We should only use it when necessary" he told the others, "we can walk."

No one would ever have been able to walk this far in New York; it just wasn't possible with all the roads.

Francis found himself feeling grateful that they were travelling light. Sure they could walk but it was quite a trek; and Francis felt awkward walking around in public before he'd had the chance to at least shower.

Alfred and Arthur's home really was on the edge of Oxford.

Although it was small, Francis already loved the place. Someone had knitted woolly jumpers for all trees and bushes in the front garden.

Arthur looked embarrassed when he saw this.

But Alfred was already charging towards the door, "Mum, Dad, we're home!"

"About the sweater thing" Arthur flustered, "mum just likes to knit stuff..."

"Arthur" Francis cut him off, "We've just escaped from my father who has threatened both of us to get me to marry someone. This is the best place on earth."

Francis loved Alfred and Arthur's parents. He couldn't understand why on earth Arthur seemed so embarrassed of them all the time.

Sure they served endless cups of tea and fussed over both their adoptive children, and Matthew and Francis endlessly.

Their mother was a sweat looking middle aged woman, wrapped in a great many knitted items. She kept trying to flatten Arthur's hair with her hands; worrying over how thin he looked, and was he eating properly or fussing about money.

"So are these your boyfriends you've brought back from America then?" She smiled, deciding obviously her eldest son's hair was not going to lye flat simply by her patting it.

"Mum!" Arthur spluttered, blushing from his cheeks to his ears,

"I'm just curious love" she beamed, "they don't look very American?"

"We're from France, and Matthew's Canadian" Francis explained, loving Arthur's parents more every minuet.

"I hope Arthur's been practising his French with you; he speaks very good French, for some reason it embarrasses him though..."

"Mum!" Arthur protested again, much to Francis' enjoyment.

"He never said he spoke beautiful French?" Francis cocked an eyebrow, "I've never heard him speak French."

Arthur's parents looked surprised.

"You should have seen him when he was showing off to the neighbours; they couldn't get him to shut up. It was all Bonjour this and Comment êtes-vous? This; he was very cute," Arthur's father was a small man with a large smile and twinkling eyes behind his wonky glasses, below his reseeding hairline.

"Don't call me cute dad!" Poor Arthur was now looking like he wanted to be somewhere else, and was slowly sinking under the table.

But Alfred looked happy enough; openly pulling Matthew into long kisses just because he could.

Their parents didn't question why they were here in the middle of the college term, they just welcomed them heartily.

Francis was over the moon that night to find he could share a room with Arthur again, and thankful for the shower.

The walls in the house were quite thin, so occasionally a moan from Alfred and Matthew's room hit them from the neighbouring room.

"Shut up!" Arthur snapped, finally tiring of this, and banged on the wall. Of course he was ignored.

The Brit was sitting on his bed looking over some of his old children's books, while Francis contemplated whether to just pull a pair of boxers on, or get a pair of shorts from his suitcase.

The boxer option won.

He bounded onto the bed, taking Arthur by surprise. Laughing when the smaller boy almost fell off the bed.

"What are you reading?" Recovering himself he pulled Arthur to his chest, resting his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder so he could see what he was looking over.

"Just some silly book about Vikings and dragons" he muttered, making to put it away. Francis pulled it gently out of his hands to take a look.

"How to train your dragon? Wasn't this a film?" The name did sound familiar.

"It was a stupid film, didn't stick to the book at all. Toothless was meant to be _toothless _and he was green and small!" Arthur crossed his arms, pouting slightly.

Arthur was the only person Francis knew who would get so wound up by, what he saw as something rather unconcerning in the ways of the world.

He placed the book on Arthur's bedside table, before pulling the messy haired blond towards him for a kiss.

"Alors parlons cher aux Français" _So let's speak French dear_ Francis smiled, playing his fingers over Arthur's lips,

"Seulement si vous me parler de cette fille qu'on était censé se marier" _Only if you tell me about this girl you were meant to marry _Arthur told him in fluent French, with a defiant look.

"Ah, Pourquoi voulez-vous savoir à son sujet?" _Ah, but why do you want to know about her? _Francis sighed, remembering back to Joan, and how desperate she'd been to get out of the marriage too; he wished her the best.

"I'm just interested, you didn't lead her to believe anything did you?" Arthur came back to English, with a small twist of his tongue.

"What would you do if I said she was head over heels for me, and that she even kissed me at the end?"

"She kissed you!" Arthur's face burned looking fierce, "how dare she..." He was cut off by Francis' fits of laughter, he glared at the other male.

"No she didn't do anything like that. She had a lover back in Paris anyway," he shifted Arthur beneath him, "jealous are we?"

He began to trail kisses along Arthur's jawline, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt; sucking on that tender part on the back of his neck.

"O-Of course I bloody am!" Arthur muttered, "you can't just go doing things like that when you have me..." He trailed off, his words getting quieter.

Feeling a wonderful turn in his chest Francis pulled Arthur to him for a powerful kiss, letting Arthur drop back onto the covers when he was finished.

He ran his fingers over Arthur's now hard and exposed nipples, pinching them between his fingers. The Brit seemed to be suppressing his moans by turning his head into the pillow.

Grinning, Francis suddenly pulled Arthur's trousers and boxers down at the same time, taking hold of the erect member with his hand, before running it along the length.

He could hear Arthur's pants from the pillow, and see the fast rising and falling of his chest. Francis grinned, pressing his thumb to the tip as he forced Arthur to face him for a kiss, moving his mouth to nip on the shell of the Brit's ear.

"Moan my name cher" he whispered against Arthur's ear, "Matthew and Alfred are busy, I doubt they'll pay us much attention,"

"Give me a reason to" Arthur challenged, with an evil glint in his eye.

Francis smirked, getting off him to fetch something from the suitcase.

"What are you doing?" Arthur half sat up curiously, watching Francis spread the liquid on his fingers,

"It's easier than using saliva non?" Getting back on the bed, he tilted Arthur's hips a little to get an aim at his entrance.

Thick tears welled in Arthur's eyes on the first finger, he clung to Francis' neck, holding back his sounds of pain.

Moving quickly, Francis inserted the second digit, scissoring his fingers out in preparation for his own pounding member.

Finding Arthur's prostate he touched his fingers against it.

"Fra..." Arthur cut himself up, determined not to let Francis get his own way so easily; though he was well aware he was now moving his hips with Francis' fingers.

"Come on, you know you want to" Francis teased, pulling his fingers back; placing something much thicker in their place, grinding into Arthur to create the last millimetres of room he needed.

Arthur had turned his face back to the pillow, his own erection stiffening again.

Francis increased his pace, so that the bed was now moving with them. He located Arthur's prostate and rutted hard against it continuously; getting faster with every thrust.

"Fucking wanker!" Arthur cursed, unable to hold back a thick moan,

"My name Arthur" Francis insisted, steadying Arthur with his hands on his shoulders as he came into him with a particularly hard thrust.

"Francis!~" Arthur choked, trying to move his body against the thrusts and finding he couldn't while Francis was holding him.

Francis took hold of Arthur's erection, pumping along it.

"Together?"

"Together" Arthur agreed, letting out an orgasmic cry as he released into Francis' hand, finding the Frenchman release inside him moments later.

Falling against Arthur's chest, Francis let both of them catch their breaths back, before grinning, "shall we do it again?"

**_Author note: The characters back in America are going to become a lot more prominent in the next chapter._**


	16. Chapter 16

"So, where are they?" Ryan examined the Spaniard's student apartment with a small frown; he couldn't find anything to suggest a way of blackmail. No photos, no newspapers; the room was almost empty, apart from the furniture that had come with the place.

"Who?" Antonio asked innocently, preparing himself and his uninvited house guest a cup of coffee.

"You know exactly who I'm referring to. You are the neighbour of two of them, and friends with the third," Ryan was steadily losing his patience; it almost seemed impossible for the Spaniard not to know something.

Antonio merely shrugged, "How should I know, last I saw of them was in class," he offered one of the steaming cups to Ryan, simply drinking it himself when it was refused.

"You know my boss could have you thrown out of this college with a bat of the eye," struggling, Ryan latched onto the only possible thing he could threaten the Spaniard with.

He watched the student pale, and bite his lip; so it had worked.

Ryan smiled to himself, he was ready to begin a proper intimidation now.

Then Antonio began to chuckle under his breath, a wide smile spreading over his face. "Have me thrown out of college then, I don't care; I'm just here for a laugh, I'm off back to Spain soon enough."

"Then he can insure you'll never reach Spain," Ryan was very pleased with himself; he had cleverly spotted something he could take advantage of in what the stupid boy had just said.

Antonio began to laugh again, "_You _stop me getting back to Spain; I don't care who you work for. Do you even know who I am?"

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo" Ryan recited, what did it matter; he'd never heard of a name like that in America, or indeed anywhere else in the world.

Antonio leaned back against the wall surveying Ryan out of the corner of his eye, then he put a finger to his lips, "shhh, it's a secret."

Swallowing, Ryan began to consider whether to request back up. This guy was obviously mad at the very least, possibly even dangerous.

"When my parents married they were already important people; so they didn't want to loose their surnames; when I was born, they decided to double-barrel them for me. My mother is Anita Fernandez, and my father is Tono Carriedo."

It took a while, but Ryan began to realise he had heard of those names. Anita Fernandez was a famous Spanish singer and dancer who was married to Tono Carriedo, the head of a senior position in many businesses all over the world; including America.

"Now" Antonio took a step towards him, still smiling, "I wonder what they'll think when they hear that you've been trying to frighten their son? This college is home to a lot of important students, even if their parentage is hidden; I'd be careful who you go after."

Holding his breath, Ryan fled from the room. Why hadn't he been warned about this sort of thing. How could Mr Bonnefry have sent him into a college he'd allowed his son to go to and not at least presume other important people's children were there as well!

He'd need to do background checks on all the students before he moved further.

Of course Mr Bonnefry was dealing with his wife, but he hadn't been able to get anything out of her so far.

No airport would tell them if they'd flown out, or they all denied it. Maybe false identities had been used?

To make matters worse, Mr Bonnefry's intended fiancé for his son had also run away. The empire of two powerful businesses were in danger, all because their children refused to see the importance on what they had to do.

Ryan smirked, remembering Matthew and Arthur's pretty faces. They were older now; but both of them were still so lovely in their appearance.

Maybe he could get hold of the two of them into this bargain if he prised Francis away from them. And he could always consider a nice bloody way to do away with that other one. Alfred Jones was his name, wasn't it.

He bumped into someone on the way down the stairs.

"Get out of my way bastard!" An angry looking boy snapped, he had another similar looking boy behind him. Though the other boy didn't look as aggressive.

"Lovino you shouldn't be so rude to people," the other looked apologeticly at him, "come on let's just go and sort this misunderstanding out with Antonio shall we."

Ryan jolted, was this what he'd been looking for?

But then he remembered the warning Antonio had given him, to be careful in who he chose to intimidate in the college.

He let the two boys pass.

Feliciano pulled his sulking brother up the stairs. Why didn't his brother seem to get what was so obvious to everybody else?

Yes, Antonio had been interested in him once, but that was only for a month or something like that. They were still good friends, but that was all; Feliciano had Ludwig now to take care of him.

He knocked on Antonio's door, but Lovino just went barging in; apparently Antonio never locked his door.

"Feli, and Lovi came to visit me~" Antonio beamed, welcoming them in while finishing the coffee he was drinking.

"We've just come to sort something out bastard!" Lovino snapped, "and I wanted to say I probably shouldn't have said that stuff to you a few nights ago... Your perverted French friend must have asked you about it..."

"You mean Francis, when did you see Francis?" Antonio suddenly changed the conversation, like he wasn't even interested that Lovino had come all this way to apologise.

"A few days ago I bumped into him" Lovino shrugged, "he looked like he was busy so I didn't bother swearing at him..." The older Italian twin trailed off, watching Antonio's worried face.

"Don't talk to strange people, okay Lovi~" The stupid Spaniard smiled again, his face back to its bright and blissfully ignorant expression.

Feliciano sighed, he wanted this problem to be sorted out quickly. "Antonio you don't want to go out with me do you?" He asked, nudging his brother to remind him why they came in the first place.

"No" Antonio shook his head, beaming at Lovino, "I love Lovino toooooo much!" He leapt forwards to hug Lovino and fell flat on his face when the boy dodged him.

Smiling, Feliciano laughed, shaking his head. Sometimes it seemed like those two would never sort it out.

* * *

><p>Ryan rushed back into the business block, refraining from tapping the elevator button continuously; he needed to speak to the boss about this.<p>

He fidgeted as he waited for the elevator to take him to the top floor, then stepped out; straight into Mr Bonnefry's office.

"Were you successful?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Ummm... No, this Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is the son of, Tono Carriedo; we can't touch him without causing serious damage to ourselves. I think we need to research these students before talking to them..."

"You think?" Mr Bonnefry got to his feet, "I'm not paying you to think, I'm paying you to find things out! If you can't use him, use someone else!" By the end of this Mr Bonnefry was shouting, "I want my son back here within the week!"

Ryan swallowed, taking the hint to dash back into the elevator and begin work immediately.

Getting hold of the names of the students Francis and Matthew were friends with was difficult, but achievable; finding out about them was a lot harder.

He ended up having to hack national databases to find the information on these kids.

_Feliciano and Lovino Vargas the twin sons of suspected Italian Mafia official Sebastian Vargas. _Was all the first page said, and it was enough to put them close to the bottom of the list of possibilities.

Those two boys he'd crashed into on the staircase. He'd almost been considering the cute one, sons of a Mafia official!

He scanned down his list of Francis' other friends.

Gilbert Beilschmidt. That name sounded familiar.

_Gilbert Beilschmidt, son of successful German car business owners Claudia Beilschmidt, and Felix Beilschmidt. He and his brother Ludwig Beilschmidt are currently attending college in New York._

Another dead end. The Beilschmidt car company was the fourth most powerful in the world; and the most powerful in Germany. You didn't touch them either.

This was quickly becoming an impossible task.

He tried Arthur and Alfred's friends at the college.

_Kiku Honda the son of the Japanese business owner of Egao, achieved in both unarmed and armed Marshall art. _No.

_Elizabeta Héderváry._

Ryan smiled, this was more like it.

* * *

><p>"So what was it you wanted to show me?" Eliza sighed, rolling her eyes; she was meant to be meeting Roderich for lunch in about five minuets.<p>

"No, I just wanted to tell you something..." Gilbert scratched the back of his head nervously, "I mean, why I was such a jerk to you at school..."

"Let's not talk about this, I know why, everybody knew why" Eliza shrugged, checking her watch,

"Everybody knew?" Gilbert blinked, he was sure at the very least his brother wouldn't have known, "there's no way Ludwig knew as well," he forced himself to laugh.

The girl was tapping her foot impatiently, "he was the one who told me, now I've really got to go," she waved, hurrying down the hall towards the music room, leaving Gilbert speechless; his brother had told her?

Feeling a bursting anger, Gilbert caught sight of his brother outside walking towards his car in a lazy fashion with Feliciano bounding after him, talking animatedly.

He shot down the staircase and out to the front of the school. Ludwig looked up when he saw him coming, "did you want a lift Bruder?"

Gilbert punched him round the face.

"How could you tell her!" He shouted, "Why couldn't you have just let it be, then I might have at least stood a chance now, but she hates me now, because you told her when I was an idiot!"

He lifted his fist to punch his brother again.

"No, Gilbert don't!" Feliciano wailed, trying to get between Ludwig and Gilbert.

He was so angry, Gilbert was about to bring his fist down anyway. Serve the stupid boy right for getting in the way.

"You hit him Gilbert and I'll see to it you'll never be able to coordinate well enough to hit another soul!" Ludwig growled, making the light haired German pause, at least enough for his brother to turn the tables, "now what is this all about!"

"Eliza said you were the one that told her why I was a jerk towards her in school!" He spat, trying to struggle out of his brother's iron like grip.

"Come on, everyone knew; better she heard it from me than anyone else" Ludwig sighed; so this was what this was all about.

"I could have told her when I wanted to!"

This did leave Ludwig slightly confused, "why would you have told her something like that?"

Feeling everything inside him breaking down, Gilbert broke free, "because that's what you tell someone when you love them!" The words came out louder than he'd meant them to.

"What?" Ludwig and Eliza spoke at the same time.

Eliza was about to head towards the buses with Roderich to get into the centre of the city, but she'd stopped to see what was happening when she saw Gilbert looking like he was ready to hit either his brother or Feliciano.

"It's not like any of you care anyway!" He yelled, taking to his heel and running towards the bus that was about to leave, leaping on it just before the doors began to close.

Eliza and Ludwig exchanged glances.

"I think I made a mistake" Ludwig muttered, guiltily.

Feliciano looking between where Gilbert had been, and between Eliza and Ludwig.

"What's all this about?" Roderich looked just as confused as Eliza.

When they were back inside the school building where nobody else could listen in, Ludwig sighed and shook his head.

"I told you that he didn't like you because he was proud and thought it wasn't right that poorer kids she get into our school. I just read him all wrong..."

"He... loved me?" Eliza choked on her words; this couldn't be right. She was half glad now, that she'd insisted Roderich go to lunch without her.

"Gilbert loves Lizzy?" Feliciano beamed, "that's really cute, are they going out now?"

"No," Ludwig smiled a little at his small lover, he was very innocent a lot of the time.

"I'm feeling cheerful now" Eliza beamed, hugging both of them, "mind if I use that moment in one of my mangas?"

"Wha...?" Ludwig responded,

"Of course" Feliciano beamed, "can I see it when it's finished?"

"Sure, but I need to go find Gilbert first."


	17. Chapter 17

Eliza stopped to look around herself. Maybe she was going about this all wrong; perhaps Gilbert went home.

It was worth checking anyway. She began to walk in the direction of the housing and apartment blocks, away from the city centre.

New York City was a nice place to live she had decided. There was plenty of inspiration for her 'art work' and there was loads to do. If she was completely honest, she thought the place she'd lived in Germany had been quite boring.

Boarding schools were always dull, especially if they were right on the edge where nobody else lived. The only reason she'd been able to go to such an expensive school was because she'd earned a Scholarship there.

Her family weren't poor, but they weren't as rich as she knew Roderich and Gilbert's parents to be. She took her time wondering over to the apartment that Gilbert and his brother were sharing- it didn't look like Ludwig was back yet.

She held her breath, this meant if Gilbert was here; she had plenty of time to talk this over with him. Honestly she wasn't even sure how she felt herself, she'd been so focused on hating him for so long; that she'd misunderstood why she had those feelings.

He hadn't hated her, he'd loved her; and was just doing exactly what every other little boy did when he liked a girl.

She forced a hopeful smile onto her face; then something was clamped round her mouth; and everything went dark.

* * *

><p>Ludwig sat across the dinner table, looking over nervously at his brother. It didn't look like Eliza had found him, and she'd just gone back to the college instead. That meant he'd have to explain the mistake he'd made.<p>

He shouldn't have jumped to conclusions when Eliza asked him why Gilbert was always picking on her. Did he really not know his brother that well?

"I'm really sorry Gilbert..." He finally managed to say, as his brother lifted his finish plate to the sink. "But after I explained, she went to find you... Maybe you should phone her?"

For a moment Gilbert paused, then he nodded slowly, "maybe I should do that."

Ludwig let out a sigh of relief. The moment the two of them had spoken; all this would be sorted, and they wouldn't have to worry about it any more.

However, before either of them could get to the phone it began to ring. Feeling a little smug, Ludwig nodded towards it; "that's probably her now."

His brother was at the phone in a flash, with a lovely hopeful look on his face. Ludwig watched with concern as his brother's face fell.

"Are you serious?... Come on, did he really have to run away like that?... Well have you spoken to him?... No, no one with any sense will touch me or Lud... Yeah, bye," he hung up, "that was Antonio, stupid Francis and his brother have run off to England,"

"Why!" Ludwig didn't know Gilbert's friends very well, but he'd come into contact with Francis a few times when he and Gilbert's other friend trashed the place.

"His father was trying to force him into some sort of marriage or something. The point is his father's looking through us lot to find somebody worthy of intimidation..." Gilbert bit his lip, he was sure they were all safe, besides what could that guy really do.

He and Ludwig's father was too powerful, Antonio was the son of two other powerful people, and something was up with Feliciano and Lovino's parentage to protect them. But what about Arthur's friends?

…. Kiku, again his parents were too powerful...

Gilbert paled.

Picking up the phone again in a flash, he dialled Eliza's mobile, reaching the answer machine.

"Shit!"

* * *

><p>"Can you really get hold of it?" If he was honest with himself, he was amazed. Antonio wasn't sure what Feliciano and Lovino's parents did, but here they were offering to find Arthur and Alfred's parent's phone number.<p>

"Of course" Feliciano beamed, "dad can get anyone's number," Lovino elbowed him with a warning glare.

Antonio didn't want to worry Francis; but he should probably know that his father was trying to find him. It might not be safe to stay somewhere so obvious.

"How long will it take?" He asked, glancing out the window of his block; a familiar white head catching his eye. What was Gilbert doing here?

Lovino shrugged, "let us phone him now, and we'll see what we can do," he indicated that Antonio should give him his mobile.

"Can't you use your own?" The Spaniard was a little surprised but he handed it over anyway; after all it was Lovino that was asking.

"Not supposed to use ours to contact him" the older Italian twin muttered, turning his back to them and dialling the number. He lowered his voice while speaking, so the others couldn't hear what he was saying.

After about five minuets of this, Lovino motioned for a pen and scrap of paper.

His brother brought them to him, then turned round to let Lovino lean on his back like a desk.

After noting down what he'd been told, he exchanged a word of thanks, then hung up before tossing the phone back to Antonio. "Thanks" he nodded.

"Did we get the number?" Feliciano bounded up and down excitedly.

Before Lovino could reply the door was thrown open.

Gilbert ran straight for Antonio, slamming him against the wall. "Where the fuck is the bastard!" He demanded, knocking his friend against the wall once more for good measure.

"I don't know yet!" Antonio shouted back, trying to shove Gilbert off him, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

That earned him another slam into the wall.

"I've just been to Eliza's room, those bloody bastards have got her I just know it; she's the only one of us they could get at!" He slammed the Spaniard against the wall once more, before he was punched, with a clean smack to the floor.

Lovino growled at him, before glancing at Antonio with a small blush and look of embarrassment, "you okay?"

"Fine..." Antonio blinked at him looking confused, his own blush lacing over his features.

"Is Ludwig coming to?" Feliciano asked cheerfully, glancing hopefully at the door; looking disappointed when Gilbert mealy shrugged, nursing his bloody lip.

Letting himself drift back into the situation, Antonio held out his hand for the number; flipping open his mobile to type in the phone number.

* * *

><p>Francis smiled lightly to himself, watching Arthur sleep beside him. It was getting late; perhaps he should get to sleep now, but he just couldn't drag his eyes from that rarely peaceful and relaxed face.<p>

Even Matthew and Alfred had settled down by now.

To distract himself, he wondered what was going on in America at the moment. Antonio wouldn't crack, and he was the only one who knew where they were. Hopefully Joan had managed to get herself out of there as well, and maybe, eventually in would all blow over, and things could go on like they'd used to.

Or even better someone would shoot his father in a hit and run, and of course he wouldn't press charges.

Then he felt a little ill. What about his mother, surely his father must have known she was involved in some kind of way.

Changing his mind he tried to calm himself by watching Arthur sleep again, but his brain was too busy making up stories of what he might do to her.

"Fuck..." He whispered, jumping out of bed, and running to repack his suitcase. He had to go back; the others would be safe here.

He froze, when Arthur muttered something and turned in his sleep. But thankfully the Brit didn't wake up.

Francis began to pack again, a little more quietly.

"I need to sort this out cher," he smiled softly, touching his lips gently to Arthur's, before taking his suitcase and leaving.

There was bound to be a plain he could catch if he paid the right amount of money.

~/~

The whole house woke with a start when the phone began to ring. There were curses from Alfred's room, and sounds of surprise from their parent's.

Every bedroom had a phone. Arthur was the first to reach for it.

"You do know it's one in the fucking morning don't you!" He muttered sleepily, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes, "who is this?"

Arthur sat up a little straighter, then nodded, even though Antonio couldn't see him.

"Francis?" He glanced to his side, realising for the first time that the Frenchman wasn't there. Maybe he'd gone to the toilet. "Francis?" He called a little louder, taking the phone with him, and getting out of bed, "it's your stupid friend..." He trailed off, his eyes falling to the previously messy part of his room, "he's gone..."

Francis had already left? Without telling him or any of the others, just upped and gone in the night.

He heard swearing on the other side of the phone, but then a discussion as they probably realised he was coming back to America.

Well, Arthur thought with a huff, hanging up immediately; Francis wasn't going to lose him that easily. He jumped out of bed, pulling on a shirt and jeans.

Francis' bastard of a father had taken Eliza to try and get information! Didn't he realise that she wouldn't know anything!

It hadn't been something they'd been planning for weeks; it just sort of happened.

He forced himself to wait until the rest of the house had settled down again, before creeping down the stairs. Alfred and Matthew were safe here; he didn't want them to feel they had to come along to.

Though he suppose that's what Francis had been thinking of him when he snuck off, well tough luck on that one. Francis had wooed him into this relationship, and now he was stuck with him whether he liked it or not.

As he pulled out his passport, he also took Alfred and Matthew's; both the fake and the real ones.

Maybe he'd still be able to catch up with Francis, there couldn't be that many flights going from Heathrow to New York City that night.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

It seemed like a flight had been going out every hour; he'd probably missed Francis by now. But he still needed to get to America.

He was partly responsible for this too; and Eliza was his friend, he couldn't let her suffer because he and Francis had done something hasty in a split second.

Thankfully there were also still a few cheap seats left. He'd be in New York by morning.

_**Author's note: I know this chapter is painfully short, I'll try and write a longer one for tommorow.**_


	18. Chapter 18

**_I don't want to make a big thing of this, because I know it's a bit delicate at the time. I just want to dedicate this chapter to Norway._**

Francis had made it to Antonio's student block without being discovered; he supposed this was the best place to go if he wanted to lie low and think about what to do next.

He had a few missed calls on his mobile, but he'd check those later; it was probably Arthur and Matthew demanding where he was.

When he knocked on the door it looked almost like he was expected.

Lovino was leaning against the far wall, Feliciano was sitting on Ludwig's lap on the sofa, and Gilbert was pacing up and down the room. Antonio answered the door.

"Wow, you did get here fast; Arthur said you'd gone, but I didn't think you'd come here when you arrived," Antonio breathed a sigh of relief.

"Wait, what?" This was all news to Francis; they'd phoned Arthur?

"Because of your little act your father's gone and taken Eliza!" Gilbert snapped, looking almost ready to start another fight.

"He's got Eliza?" Francis was struggling to process all this information so suddenly in the morning; and before he'd had a shower, and a proper breakfast.

"It's true," Antonio showed him the message on his mobile from a with held number that simply read _Got your friend, bring information within next two days._

He read the message a few times, then sighed, "well I'm here now; I've got to face up to him at some point."

"Good," Gilbert went for him, "let's get you wrapped up and delivered now shall we."

Antonio stood between them, managing to catch Gilbert's fist in the air. "This is our friend we're talking about; even for Eliza you can't just throw him away. We have just under forty-eight hours to think of something; let's not start fighting amongst ourselves."

Begrudgingly, Gilbert stepped back, falling down on the sofa next to his brother.

It was probably about five in the morning, and most of them hadn't slept, and none had eaten breakfast yet.

Eventually Antonio and Francis moved over to the kitchen area to put something together, while Gilbert had gone back to his worried pacing.

While they were eating a quickly put together breakfast of fried egg and bacon, Francis checked his messages.

_Message 1: Where the hell have you and Arthur gone you bastard!_

_Message 2: Francis, this is Matthew; why did you take our passports? Let us help too._

_Message 3: Francis, tell me where you are. This is Arthur by the way. I'm at the airport._

"Merde!" Francis shouted, disturbing everyone else, "that stupid Brit!" He was back on his feet, reaching for his coat, texting Arthur back. _Stay where U R U idiot, I'll come and get U_.

"Where are you going!" Gilbert looked almost ready to block the door; like he thought he was trying to escape.

Francis pushed him aside, "Arthur's just arrived in New York, I need to go and get him before anyone else picks him off!"

He strolled quickly out of the apartment, hurrying down the stairs and outside. He'd have to call another taxi, none of the buses were working at this time. Then he caught sight of Ludwig's car; it would be easy enough to hot wire.

* * *

><p>Glancing down at his messages, Arthur read Francis'. He knew his lover would probably be absolutely furious that he was here, but Arthur wasn't just going to sit around waiting to see what happened.<p>

He had a lot of texts from Matthew and Alfred too; even his parents had been leaving messages.

Adjusting his watch to match the large one on the wall of the airport, he looked up again. Spotting a coffee machine, he wondered over. Arthur didn't particularly like coffee, but he needed something to wake him up.

Now sipping his disgusting paper cup of coffee, he took the time to look round the airport again. Maybe he should wonder outside to where it would be easier for Francis to see him.

He caught sight of a tall looking man, that seemed to keep catching his attention. He didn't know the man, but he seemed to be everywhere Arthur looked.

Nervously, he began to walk with his coffee to another part of the airport. He'd just finish his coffee, then he'd go outside.

Glancing around, again that man caught his eye. Arthur began to realise what was happening; he needed to get out of here now.

Dropping his paper cup into the bin, he made a casual dive for a group of crowded people, before changing direction and walking quickly towards the exit. He hoped to God that Francis was there.

He knew by now that the man was following him, also increasing his own pace. Now he knew he was being followed; the man had no reason to hold back.

At the first possible moment, he broke into a run; sweeping past people in his rush towards the door.

Bursting out of the airport he scanned the scene for a taxi or something like that.

"Get in the bloody car you idiot!" Shouted a familiar voice a few meters to his left. Francis was calling from a very expensive looking car that might be Ludwig's. Arthur had seen him in it coming to and from college.

Thankfully, Arthur hurried towards it. Not feeling safe until he was sitting inside next to Francis; and the door was shut.

"I think I was being followed" he told him, glancing out of the window to see if he could still see that tall man. Francis didn't reply.

Arthur risked a look at him, regretting it immediately when he saw Francis' glare on the road ahead. Saying Francis would be furious now seemed like an understatement.

"This involves me too" he tried to argue, feeling his chest beginning to quiver. He'd never seen Francis angry like this before, and it was frightening him more than Francis' father had.

He tried to fight back his tears, but ended up crying anyway.

Francis was driving out of New York, heading towards the motorway. Where were they going?

"I'm sorry" Arthur apologised, sniffing, and rubbing his eyes, "I don't want you to do this on your own..."

He was cut off when Francis pulled down a discrete side road, and slammed the break on.

Another short tense silence followed. Then,

"What the hell are you doing here!" Francis demanded, turning and seizing the front of his English lover's shirt, "I left you in England for a reason; I don't want to be worrying about you all the time!"

"You don't need to worry about me" Arthur whispered, his tears increasing when Francis shouted, "I can take care of myself."

"You idiot! Could you have been any more stupid!" Francis' grip tightened on his shirt, he was now almost pulling Arthur out of his seat; regardless of the seatbelt.

Unable to talk any more, Arthur just let himself cry; hoping Francis would get go of him soon.

"D-Do you hate me now?" He finally managed to choke, feeling like a complete baby.

Francis shook his head, relaxing his grip on the other's shirt; "of course I don't hate you cher; it's because I love you that I don't want anything to happen to you," he moved his mouth to kiss Arthur's reassuringly.

The Brit pushed him back, "I don't want anything to happen to you either" he reasoned, waiting for the Frenchman's reaction.

"Can I really not persuade you to go home?" Francis asked, undoing Arthur's seatbelt slowly.

Arthur shook his head stubbornly, rising his mouth to meet Francis' again; deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around Francis' neck to pull him closer.

He stopped when Francis gave a grunt of pain as his leg caught the gear stick.

Arthur found himself being directed through the gap between the front seats into the back, with Francis following him.

They were going to have sex in a car. This didn't present the idea of being comfortable; but Arthur wanted the reassurance of having Francis inside him again.

He found himself being pushed against the door of the car, with Francis and his tongue lashing out against the other; challenging the other for dominance.

Arthur could feel his shoes, then jeans being slipped off him onto the car floor. Then the idea of what Ludwig would think if he knew they were having sex in his car made him laugh. The laugh soon turned into a moan, as Francis pressed his hand over the material of his boxers.

"Je t'aime" Francis smiled, undoing the zipper on his own trousers; sucking his own fingers for lubrication. He just wanted to fuck Arthur right now; just to tell himself he still had Arthur in his arms.

He prodded his first digit into Arthur's entrance, wasting no time in finding the spot he now knew off by heart, before adding the second finger to scissor out some more space.

He was becoming weak with the Brit's moans and hot gasps; his own member was growing to such a size that he was worried it would be too big if he waited much longer.

Possibly a little too quickly, he pulled his fingers back and thrusted himself inside.

"Too fast!" Arthur hissed, catching his breath and clutching at the leather seats of the car. Closing his eyes tightly.

Francis forced himself to wait for Arthur to adjust, before he began to move steadily; moving his hips so he hit that one spot as accurately as possible.

"I love you~" Arthur gasped, running his hands through Francis' hair, rising to meet the thrusts; coming to meet Francis' kiss.

Both of them moaned into the kiss, begging the each other for more.

"You are a stubborn pain, I hope you know that" Francis groaned, drifting his tongue over Arthur's shoulder blade.

"But you love me for it" the Brit managed a smirk, feeling his skin redden under his lover's mouth.

"Oui, that I do" Francis breathed, moving in for a final kiss before releasing inside the other, at the same time Arthur released against his chest.

The first thought that came to Arthur's mind after the white had faded from his vision was that his back hurt. Maybe having sex in a car hadn't been their best idea.

"Shall we get back to Antonio's now?" Francis sat up, stretching his back, "I think Gilbert's worried I might run off and leave Eliza to suffer," he lifted his eyebrow when Arthur looked at him enquiringly, "oh, we've missed quite a bit while we were gone."

He helped Arthur up, kissing him tenderly, doing up his boxers as trousers again, before climbing back into the front seat.

Arthur redressed himself and climbed in beside him. He was a little more used to the sex by now, and his hips didn't hurt as much after a short shag. Though God knows what would become of him if Francis did another one of those 'five times' acts, and expected him to do something the next day. The very thought made him wince.

Back at the apartment, Gilbert took hold of Francis and sat him down on the sofa, sitting like a guard beside him.

"Right, so now your _boyfriend _is safe, can we get on with a plan to get Eliza out of this mess!" He glared round at the others, "I mean don't we have any strings we can pull?" He looked at Feliciano and Lovino hopefully, but they shook their heads.

"We can't ask dad for everything; he's a busy man" Feliciano shrugged, his face turning cold for a moment, before he gave a sound of excitement and clung to Ludwig's arm, "why don't we settle it ourselves, that would be fun."

"Fun?" Arthur looked over at the Italians that he usually ignored.

"Yeah" Lovino smirked, a dangerous look in his eyes, "fun."

* * *

><p>Eliza glared around the room she'd been imprisoned in. They knew she didn't know anything, and she didn't know why they thought Francis might come in just for her. She was friends with Arthur, and knew Matthew quite well, but it wasn't anything really.<p>

She'd seen Francis' father once; and he was just as scary as she'd imagined him to be from Gilbert's stories.

She didn't blame Francis and Matthew for wanting to get away from him. Besides, she glanced down at her mobile, watching the light flash; someone had tried to contact her.

It was a comfort to her that she still had the mobile; though she supposed that they didn't see any point in taking it off her, because her hands were tied behind the back of the chair she'd been roped to; so she couldn't reach it.

She'd been left on her own in what she supposed must be a cellar. Honestly, she had no idea where she was.

But this was the only chance she had to try and get her hands free.

Fighting against the rope, she knew she was cutting at her wrists, but she didn't stop; despite the pain. Eventually after about an hour it paid off.

She didn't even stop to examine her wrist; she dialled the first number that came to mind.

"Gilbert, come and get me right now."


	19. Chapter 19

"Can we trace the call?" Antonio glanced over at the Italian twins; they seemed to have a better idea of this sort of stuff than the rest of them.

"We can try" Lovino nodded, "do you have a laptop I can use?"

"I've got a computer in my room" the Spaniard admitted, looking a little embarrassed. Life was easier if he didn't make a big show about who his parents were; and that meant not spending any of the money they sent him.

Everything he had was what he'd paid for himself through doing small jobs here and there.

"Bastard, I'm not setting one foot in there with you" Lovino growled.

Smiling a little, Antonio put his arm round Feliciano, beaming. "Well then, Feli can do it..."

Lovino hit him round the back of the head, before dragging him in the direction of his room, grumbling to himself.

Gilbert was still talking to Eliza on his mobile, asking if she was okay, and if she knew where she was.

"I'm fine, and I don't know where I am" she kept repeating, laughing a little at how frantic he sounded, "but I'm sure you and your friends can find me, then we can all go out to that coffee place where we sat down and had our first proper conversation."

"If they've laid a finger on you..." Gilbert froze as the line went dead.

Lovino waited for Antonio to type his password in, though without even looking at the keys he could work it out for himself. _Espalia_

España and Italia combined. Did that Spanish idiot really love his brother that much... Lovino glanced away, trying to hide his look of hurt.

He was the one who'd seen Antonio first; spoken to him first. Why had he gone for his brother?

Though the answer was obvious. Feliciano was cuter and politer than he was; after all, next to that, who'd want someone as loud and rude as him.

"Lovi, are you okay?" Antonio looked over at him, his face full of concern; he got up out of his chair to see if he could help, but Lovino slapped him away, pushing past to sit down in front of the computer.

For a while Antonio watched him, then he sat back on his bed; pondering.

This was all a bit of a mess.

Ryan had come to try and scare something out of him, but it was clear Francis' father was the one pulling the strings. He wondered how Francis' mother was coming along.

This was a cruel world.

"Finished" Lovino noted down an address on the back of his hand, "though it was so easy, they probably knew she'd phone us and we'd trace the call..." He trailed off, looking like he was thinking hard, "we need to be careful here..."

"Let's get going then" Antonio beamed, glancing at the address on Lovino's hand, "this is exciting, I don't ever seem to get out much~"

The Italian pulled his hand back, "this isn't a game you idiot!" He snapped, blocking Antonio's cute excitable face from his mind.

From here on in, they needed a plan.

Outside many students were heading to morning classes. Should they phone the professors to let them know of their absence, or just leave it at that?

"Arthur you're staying here with Feliciano okay," Francis glanced over at the Brit with a firm look, knowing full well Arthur was about to protest.

"But Francis..."

"You're staying here" Francis told him again, placing his hand under the smaller one's chin to pull him in for a kiss, "I promise everything will be okay; let's just keep you safe here for now."

Sighing, Arthur watched a smiling Feliciano kiss Ludwig goodbye, a blissful face of ignorance on his expression. This was one of the last people on earth that Arthur wanted to spend his time around.

The others left, Arthur had the good impression that Francis had been asking Antonio if there was any way to lock the door from the inside so he couldn't get out.

Feliciano set about in the kitchen, probably preparing lunch.

Arthur sat down on the sofa flicking on the old looking television; he needed something to pass the time, maybe there'd be a good drama on or something like that.

"This is an interesting college; we've got loads of people from all over the place~" Feliciano finished preparing lunch, and sat himself down on the sofa, cheerfully, next to Arthur; handing him a plate of food.

"Hmm" Arthur agreed, beginning to eat his way through the food. He didn't like small talk; it always made him uncomfortable.

But Feliciano didn't seem to have been put off the conversation, he continued all through lunch to talk about this and that, and doesn't that girl on the television look pretty.

In many ways in was comforting to have someone like that around you at the moment; it let you take your mind off everything else.

He let his eyes drift back to the television, where the news was just starting.

_Police again have opened the Plane Crash case, believing there to still be significant evidence behind the case. This sprung up with the discovery that Mr Evans, the older survivor from the crash had worked for Mr and Mrs Williams, two Canadian businessmen, until he was fired for unknown reasons. Police are again, requesting to see the survivors; and more urgently Matthew Williams; the son of the deceased who was not on the plane._

Arthur let his mouth drop open; this thing was opening again!

Then he let the message wash over him, why hadn't Matthew told them about this? So far it appeared, he was the only one who had not lied to the police. But of course he knew less than it appeared Matthew and Alfred did.

He wondered how much Francis knew, or if indeed Francis knew any more than Alfred had told him.

While he was here, he might as well do something useful.

Arthur excused himself and went to shut himself in his old room next door; he needed to think this out. Every detail from that plane, however scary it was.

Eleven years ago

"Can I please" Arthur begged, tugging on his mother's skirt, pointing at the cute fluffy unicorn in the airport shop window.

"No Arthur, we'll find you a toy when we get to America; everything is too expensive at airports," she gave his hand a small tug, "we need to go and show our passports now to get on the plain."

After a few tears, and a bit of sulking Arthur finally allowed himself to be pulled over to join his father who was waving to them from the boarding que.

He was still hopeful of that unicorn, but he was beginning to realise his parents were serious about it being too expensive. Oh well, maybe if he was good all holiday they'd buy it for him when they got back.

"Hello, my name is Alfred, what's yours?" A boy about his age, bounded towards him from a few people back in the que. He had bright blue eyes, and a funny cowlick that stuck out from the centre of his blond hair. His accent was clearly American; he must be going home.

"I'm Arthur" Arthur introduced, clutching a little tighter to his mother's leg, hiding behind it. As a rule he was usually nervous of other children he didn't know.

"Manors Arthur" his mother reminded him, sweeping him out again to talk to the other boy.

"Are you going on vacation?" Alfred asked,

"Vacation?" Arthur blinked his large green eyes in confusion; he didn't understand the word,

"Holiday" his mother told him, smiling at Alfred's parents who were shaking their heads and looking apologeticly in their direction.

"Yes" Arthur replied, "we're going to New York..."

"I live in that state" Alfred continued, looking excitable; examining Arthur all over, "you have funny coloured eyes."

However this came about, Arthur found himself sitting next to Alfred on the plane. Their parents had swapped around tickets so they'd be able to sleep while the boys were chatting.

Arthur soon found himself sinking into easier conversation with this boy, and soon he was quite at ease with it.

"I need to go to the toilet" Arthur got up about an hour after the seatbelt light had gone off. He knew that meant he could get up if he wanted to.

"Okay, I'll buy some chocolate if the stewardess comes round; they sell British chocolate on this plane; I want as much as possible before I get back to America."

Arthur smiled, making his way down the aisle. Most of the adults were all asleep by now; except for two people he passed who were talking in quiet hurried voices. They had bike helmets at their feet.

Making his way to the toilet, Arthur closed the door and did he business. He didn't bother locking it; after all he was only seven.

He finished, and was about to do his pants and trousers back up again when someone took hold of him. Arthur thought it was a funny place to grab, then wondered what the man was doing in here with him.

A jolt of panic went through his spine when a hand crept down the back of his trousers. "I don't think my mother would approve of what you're doing" he told the man in a clean voice; unsure what else to do. But to his surprise the man seemed so taken aback, that he was able to do his trousers up and wonder back to Alfred.

"What took you so long?" Alfred asked questioningly, glancing down the aisle to where Arthur was looking.

Then Arthur explained to him what had happened. He saw his new American friend's eyes narrow and darken, but he didn't say anything about it. "Who was it?" He asked.

Arthur waited until the man left the toilet then pointed him out.

No sooner had he done this, there was a funny jerk in the air that woke a few people from their slumbers. They were all muttering about turbulence under their breath, and settled back to sleep again.

"Ladies and gentleman, we asked you to stay calm" a voice rang out along the plane, "please bend your heads against the seat in front of you and brace yourselves. If someone next to you is asleep, please wake them up and instruct them to do the same."

Everyone was confused, but they did what they were told.

In the next few moments, the plane gave another violent tip.

It began to sink in to most people, what was happening.

A woman burst into tears, a few other people started panicking. People trying to persuade others to return to their seats.

"What's happening?" Arthur jumped out of his seat, running down the aisle trying to find his parents. Alfred tried to hold him back, but Arthur just slipped through his fingers. "Mummy? Daddy? Where are you?" Tears began to slip down his cheeks, he let himself melt into loud sobs.

Somewhere he could feel someone watching him, then the woman he'd seen talking earlier, planted her helmet on his head. "Quickly, to the back of the plane" she told him, motioning for her husband to come with her. "In a crash like this, it's the safest place to be."

In a sort of childish daze, Arthur reached out to grab Alfred as they raced past.

"Who are these people?" Alfred was also crying, his voice full of panic.

The previously cold looking man, that was the woman's husband smiled at Alfred, "you know, you look a little like our son" he smiled, taking off his own helmet and fixing it to Alfred's head. "I hope this helps."

Everything else happened so quickly, that even Alfred probably couldn't remember.

All Arthur could remember was skidding and hitting his helmet protected head against something hard. Whatever it was, it must have been very hard, because even with the helmet he was knocked out.

He could vaguely remember waking up at some point and seeing Alfred clutching to him with one arm, while pointing another gun holding steady arm further down the plane.

"Where did you get that?" Arthur heard himself mumble,

"that lady's handbag" Alfred replied, still keeping his eyes on whatever it was further down the plane.

Present day

Without that helmet... Arthur rubbed the back of his head where he could still feel the tinge of pain where he'd hit his head. If he hadn't been wearing that helmet he probably would have died in that moment.

Those people who had saved him and Alfred; he was trying to remember their faces. They'd had a gun, helmets to protect them from some sort of crash...

The woman had blond hair, a similar shade to Alfred's, and warm blue eyes. The man had been wearing glasses, and also had a similar shade of hair colour. He looked quite a bit like Alfred, that was what Arthur had been able to remember; but no so like Alfred that they could have been related.

Then a sickening thought reached him. They looked just like Matthew.


	20. Chapter 20

Gilbert sighed impatiently.

First they'd been held up because Ludwig was fussing about Francis hotwiring his car, now they'd headed straight into traffic.

He knew they still had over 24 hours left, but he couldn't help but worry. Although Lovino had assured him that they meant Eliza to phone them so they'd been able to trace it, he couldn't help but think how she might be being punished in some way.

"How far away are we?" He pestered, opening the window and leaning out of it, to see if he could tell how far the traffic went.

Antonio checked Lovino's hand, then looked down at the map. "Only a few blocks" he smiled reassuringly, "we'll be there soon enough. Problem is, what are we going to do when we do get there?"

"First we get Eliza out" Ludwig spoke up for the first time since his fuss about the car, "then we report all this to the police. Though I hear they're currently looking for your brother Francis, and Arthur and Alfred," he turned up the radio so they could listen to the news channel.

Francis sighed, "I wish they'd all just told the truth in the first place; it feels like Alfred and Matthew were especially hiding something... If they'd have spoken up, maybe Ryan at the very least would have been locked up by now."

The traffic finally seemed to be moving forwards, and in another half hour they were able to pull the car up and get out.

"So do I just walk in?" Francis shrugged, knowing full well he would be recognised in moments, if they were anyone who worked for his father.

"We don't really have another option" Lovino told him, reaching out a hand to pull Antonio back by the scruff of the neck to stop him marching into the warehouse. "We proceed with caution."

* * *

><p>Eliza could have banged her head on the table in front of her; how could she have been so stupid. This was obviously a trap, why hadn't she seen that?<p>

Now she'd not only put Gilbert in danger, but all the others that were coming to get her as well. Surely Arthur and Francis wouldn't be so stupid to have come as well. Though she was sure at least one of them had argued their way into the 'rescue mission'.

Francis' father had one firm hand resting on her shoulder. He was watching the door with a smile on his face. Just waiting.

"What are you going to do?" She breathed, afraid to look at her captor; or more importantly what he had in his hand, that he was currently pointing at her head; but she knew who the bullet was meant for.

"Let's just wait and see" he told her in a soulless voice.

That bastard Ryan that had brought her in was leaning against a wall, his eyes also fixed on the door looking excited.

Then the door was thrown open, and the first bullet fired.

Lovino almost had to knock Antonio to the floor, to clear him of the bullet. Dam that stupid Spaniard never looking where he was going!

"Missed," Francis' father, now moved to stand in front of her, pointing the gun at the new comers. "Francis please step forward" he growled.

There was a shuffle of feet and Francis pushed his way to the front.

"Why have you got a gun?" He asked his father with a chilled tone, glancing round to smile reassuringly at Eliza.

"I'd have thought it was obvious why" Ryan smirked, "we're here to do an exchange, like a business exchange."

Francis narrowed his eyes.

"Right" he nodded, "you release her, then you can do what you want we me..."

"Were you agreeing to that or just stating?" Ryan moved over to Eliza, pulling her to her feet.

"Agreeing," Francis assured Ryan with a smile, but his eyes didn't leave his father.

What happened next, happened very quickly.

Eliza stamped her heeled foot down on Ryan's, before tackling Francis' father, almost wrenching the gun out of his hands. Under usual circumstances she probably wouldn't have been able to manage it, but Mr Bonnefry was so surprised by what had happened that he didn't have time to react.

Gilbert gave a whoop, jumping to her aid immediately, sitting down next to her on top of Mr Bonnefry.

Ryan looked panicked, as the other four turned to him. Looking at the very least like they meant him some harm.

He drew his own gun; he'd have been an idiot not to be carrying one, and pointed it at the one that was closest to him.

Antonio hesitated when he saw the gun pointing at him. The other's had come to a complete stop, eyeing up Ryan carefully to see how serious he was about it.

"Pass me that gun there miss," he held out a hand towards Eliza; cocking the gun with the thumb on his other hand.

"Don't do it" Antonio glanced at her and Gilbert, "we've come this far; you can't let them go now, besides, you give it to him, then he'll have two guns."

"Shame really," Ryan took a step towards him, smirking a little at Francis as he walked past. He struck out a hand to pull Antonio back with him; so he still had view of everyone else in the room.

Antonio now found himself with the cold metal of the gun pointing against his head.

"You're quite a cute one aren't you" Ryan cooed, running his other hand along Antonio's cheek. Grinning when he heard Lovino growl at him. "Maybe if I can't take Arthur and Matthew; I'll take him."

"Eliza, Gilbert, get off my dad; they just want to deal with me; nobody else needs to get hurt," Francis began to motion for Ryan to send Antonio back to them.

"But..." They began to protest, but Francis just repeated the same instruction.

They got up, off Mr Bonnefry.

"Now all of you back away towards the door," Francis held out his hand again for Antonio, but Ryan didn't let him go, "I want your little friend and brother in exchange."

"Just let him go" Mr Bonnefry sighed, taking a step forwards.

The second shot of the day rang out in the warehouse cellar.

Francis watched his father fall to the ground with a bullet in his head, and Ryan was already looking like he was ready to shoot another.

Well, Francis half smiled, somebody had finally sorted his father out for him. But he still needed Antonio back, and there was no way he was handing over either Matthew or Arthur.

"They're not here," he threw his arms up in the air, "I can't just give one of them to you. Besides they're both still in England," he half lied in that statement. Begging to God that Arthur stayed where he was meant to be.

"I can wait" Ryan assured him, then cursed as Antonio bit the hand that was holding him.

But somehow Ryan kept hold of him with his bleeding hand, and struck him round the head with the but of the gun.

Lovino lunged for him. A bullet missing his ear by inches.

He tackled Ryan to the ground, both of them struggling over control of the gun.

"Lovi..." Antonio shook his head quickly to clear it, before diving down to help Lovino.

Ryan won the fight, and fired.

The bullet missed Lovino's chest, but tore through his shoulder.

Antonio pulled his friend back from any further shots.

"That's it!" Ryan spat, "I'm going to kill you all!" He looked serious about it too; then his eyes flicked towards the door.

Everyone else turned to see what he was looking at, except for Francis who just swore. "Fuck, Arthur why can't you just do as you're told!"

"I told you, I can take care of myself!" The familiar voice snapped back.

"What happened to Feliciano!" Francis finally turned and shouted at him.

"I'm here," the younger Italian waved over Arthur's shoulder, "you just said to keep an eye on him, I didn't know you didn't want him to leave..."

Ryan grinned, losing interest in Lovino and Antonio, "if he comes here the rest of you all leave,"

"Arthur you stay right where you are!" Francis ordered, looking ready to block Arthur's path if he had to.

"This is the only way," Arthur pushed his way down so he was standing next to his French lover, "trust me," he pressed himself against the Francis' chest, his deep green eyes staring up at Francis' blue ones.

Francis' eyes widened, "you can't..."

"Yes I can," Arthur spun to face Ryan, "the last time we met you told me I'd lost my touch in fighting back, well how's this?" He pulled the gun he'd taken from Feliciano from where he'd concealed it in his shirt, and fired without any hesitation.

For a moment there was silence, then Ludwig crossed his arms. "And how are we going to cover this up!"

_**I know this chapter is very short, but I think I only have one more to go, and I need to finish it before Monday 3:00pm (British time).**_


	21. Chapter 21

Deciding because Francis and Arthur could be linked to this, Ludwig took a clean tissue from his bag and wiped the gun clean of fingerprints. That way even if they could prove they were there, they couldn't prove they'd shot anyone.

After that they all made themselves scarce, back into Ludwig's car. It would be unlikely that Francis' dad had been as stupid to set up a CCTV camera, so they didn't worry about that.

"Now let's go and get Alfred and Matthew back; I'm sure they're absolutely furious with _one of us _stealing their passports," he emphasised the 'one of us' part, and kissed Arthur's mouth gently, grinning when Arthur began to kiss him back.

"Not in the car please!" Ludwig barked from the driver's seat.

Francis and Arthur exchanged a knowing smirk, that the other's that were stuffed into the back noticed.

Eliza gave a sound of joy and exclamation, Lovino was looking rather amazed and glad that they'd done it in Ludwig's car. Antonio sniffled his laughter, and Gilbert gave it away.

"Did you seriously?" He asked, catching Ludwig's attention again,

"Did they seriously what?" He narrowed his eyes at the other two blonds in the back of his car.

"You do have very comfy seats" Francis shrugged.

It took Ludwig less than a second to put two and two together, and soon Arthur and Francis were being thrown out of the car.

"Go and find a bus to take you to the airport!"

Francis and Arthur didn't really mind, and began to walk towards the nearest bus stop.

"What about your mother!" Arthur suddenly stopped, looking back over his shoulder at where Ludwig's car had disappeared.

Francis shook his head sadly; "she'll either be dead, or she'll have run off; we won't be seeing her again," he moved the subject quickly, "so, do you think we'd get away with doing it in that small toilet on the plane?"

"No" Arthur told him firmly, "the next time we're sleeping together is at the very least in a house,"

"But that's so boring" Francis wined, then he smirked, "you're so cute; you say 'sleeping together'," he watched Arthur's face turn bright red, and took hold of his hand, swinging it in a childish manner, "now I think we've all missed quite enough of college between us."

College classes returned back to normal. Arthur and Alfred moved back in with Francis and Matthew.

Of course Francis managed to persuade them all to go down to the police station and tell the truth.

Arthur and Alfred's stories matched, and it turned out Matthew had known his parents were going to bring the plane down as an act of revenge on his part.

"They took helmets with them" he mumbled, "they said if they got to the back of the plane and put them on, they'd be okay..."

Alfred dropped his mouth open, but didn't say anything until they'd left the station.

"Matty" he whispered, "I should probably tell you, the reason we survived and your parents didn't was because they gave us their helmets..." He wasn't sure whether to feel guilty, or see this as a sign of Matthew's parent's approval.

"They must have liked you then" Matthew said in a small voice, giving Alfred's hand a squeeze. Then he looked up, "where did Arthur and Francis go?"

Alfred rolled his eyes, "even if Francis doesn't want your dad's old business he still wants to keep the money going; he's just employing others to take care of it for him,"

"So?" Matthew didn't see what all this meant,

"So, he still has his own office... And desk."

_**Shortest ending I have ever had, but I'm going on holiday now, and I wanted to finish this first.**_


End file.
